“I’m not going back.” She must have said those words twenty times if she’d said them once. She’d yelled, cried, pleaded, and she shouted some more.
And Griffin sat there like an immovable, uncaring lump. The most response she’d gotten out of him in the last couple hours were uncivilized grunts. He had his back against one of the crystals, his arms braced on his knees and though he sat motionless with his eyes closed, she had no doubt he was wide awake. She’d been loud enough to wake the dead back on Earth.
She paced. “Chief Payne, I want to talk about this. I. Cannot. Go. Back.”
One sea-green eye opened. “You are turning out to be a typical society miss with your goddamned whining.”
Prudence stared at him in the twilight. A drop of sweat ran down his temple. Her gaze followed it down his chin, his neck, until it disappeared beneath his collar. A shiver raced over her skin. Was he teasing her again? She was an alien to the Earthers; no part of society had ever embraced her. “That’s funny because none of the society misses I’ve met thought I had a lot in common with them.”
It was true. She’d always gotten along better with servants and shopkeepers than any of the women the Parnells mingled with. She was too thin for any of the current fashions to look good on her, which was a check against her. She spent more time staying abreast of current events and studying foreign cultures than keeping on the up-and-up about celebrities and society, which was another mark against her. And she was a hybrid—born of an alien and a base-born Marine—a huge no-no in society’s circles.
He shifted and let out a long, beleaguered sigh. “Ah, what’s-a-matter, the crème de la crème of the world wasn’t good enough for you? Don’t worry, Angel, you’ll be a goddamned celebrity when you get back. Everyone will be vying for an interview with the woman taken captive by assassin Griffin Jude Payne.”
Prudence opened her mouth to defend herself and then snapped it closed. He thought she was one of them. She almost laughed, would have had her situation been less precarious. How many years had she spent lamenting society’s antipathy toward her? How many years had she tried to fit in to no avail? And Griffin seemed convinced she was one of them—she could see it in his absolute refusal to even acknowledge her.
Well, this was awkward in a life-or-death sort of way. He wanted to use her to get a ship, but she wasn’t so sure Randolph would take the bait. He may blow them both away. By this time, Randolph must have figured out society followed him because they wanted to, not because of her gifts. He’d realize he had no need of her. But if she told Griffin that, then he’d demand to know about her gifts, which would put her in a whole other kind of jeopardy.
Why were men such horrible creatures?
“Lie down and go to sleep.”
She planted her hands on her hips and glared.
“Lady, you don’t want me to ask again.”
No, she didn’t doubt that for a moment. “You’re a bastard. An absolute bastard.”
His scowl darkened and she went straight to her pack and lay out her sleeping mat. She refused to lie down. She sat on her mat with her back to one of the crystals jutting out of the ground. “Why are you being like this?”
He shook his head and so much time passed, she didn’t think he would answer. When he did, his voice was low and his beautiful eyes filled with pain. “I witnessed everything I loved blown to pieces. Men and women I fought with, risked everything with, gone in one bomb blast. And why? Because they loved freedom more than the ideal of a perfect, unattainable society.”
Sympathy for him overwhelmed her. She was alone in the world. She’d stood on the outside, watching everything in the world change. She couldn’t imagine being in his position, standing in the middle while the U.N. systematically destroyed everything around him.
The thing was, Alfred’s dream had started out innocent enough. The nations had been warring for decades, fighting over resources, religions, ideals. It had become obvious that Earth’s people would not survive much more. When the U.N. stepped in, the nations didn’t have much choice but to bow to their whims. War-torn, bankrupt, and struggling to support their citizens, the nations folded one by one. The problem was, the Parnells’ solution ended up being far more damaging than the problem.
She was staring at proof of that.
Chief Payne was suicidal. She couldn’t mistake his haunted, pain-filled gaze for anything other than what it was. She’d seen that look too many times in the mirror. She’d wounded him when she’d blamed him for making things worse, twisting the knife into whatever guilt he already carried.
Prudence lay down and gave him her back, her heart aching with regret. She’d finally learned to fight back, but in doing so, she’d hurt someone she wasn’t too sure deserved her wrath.
He lay down beside her, trapping her between outcroppings of stone and his body. “The Parnells took everything from me: my brother, my unit, my corps, and my country. I did what I did for them. Not just for a ticket here. And not with any aspirations of being anyone’s hero.”
Maybe he wasn’t the hero she first thought, but he was still the only man who’d made an effort. And no one deserved to experience such pain.
“I want it all back. And you . . . .” He leaned over so his words brushed against her ear, sending shivers over her skin, “you’re going to get it for me.”
Renewed anger burned through her sympathy with the force of a forest fire.
They’d see about that.
*****
Griffin woke to the glare of sunlight probing his lids. The sand was hot beneath his body and he had a crick in his neck from using his pack as a pillow. He stretched and opened his eyes.
“Goddamnittohell!” He jumped to his feet, trying to look in every direction at once.
Prudence was gone.
How the hell had she gotten past him? True, he’d been relying a bit on her realizing she needed his help, but fuck. He grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder, scanning the ground for footprints. They’d been all over their campsite last night, so it took several minutes before he found what he needed. There. She was still headed straight into Scarecrow territory. Christ, the woman was stubborn as a mule grazing on stinkweed. Depending on what time she left, she could be miles away already. He set out at a run, his stomach grumbling in protest. He’d intended to share that damned apple with her, but not now.
A hundred yards out, he stopped and swore. He’d thought they were coming out of the desert, but glittering sand spread out before him like a great black ocean for as far as his eye could see. Not even the slightest breeze shifted the sand or cooled his skin today. He had a clear view of Prudence’s footprints headed straight into the wasteland and disappearing into the shimmering horizon where the heat wafted up from the ground.
The fool woman would cook out there with her fair skin and dark hair, she’d already had one hell of a sunburn. By the end of the day, she’d likely have sun poisoning and wish to hell she hadn’t wasted her sole med-wand on him. She had no water. No food.
She was fucked.
Unless you find her in time.
Griffin cupped his hands to his face, trying to see past the glare. The ground was flat and dark as a forest pond. He saw no movement—there was nothing out there to draw his eye. She must have hauled ass last night. And why wouldn’t she after you told her you were going to use her as a hostage? He shouldn’t have made the threat. He had no intention of carrying it out. But damn it, what she said last night . . . it hit far too close to home. And as a true soldier, he fought back.
But he never expected her to do anything that might put her life in danger. What the hell was she running from? Him?
He’d be doing her a favor, returning her to Earth. If she wanted to leave Randolph, fine. No law said she had to marry the S.O.B, but wandering around Asteria alone was not a good alternative. Besides, if he had his way, Randolph would be dead soon after they returned and she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. She could live out her
life safe in the embrace of society back on Earth.
Damn it. He shouldn’t have made that threat.
*****
She was being hunted.
That old adage about Marines never giving up was proving to be true. Griffin was tracking her. Every now and again she’d pause and look back the way she came and every time she saw a heat-misshaped splotch in the distance. The heat rising from the desert floor made it impossible to discern her pursuer’s identity, but she had no doubt it was him.
Oh, part of her wanted to run right back to him. This hike might be easier with someone to talk to, someone to depend on. But Chief Payne was a tortured soul and she wasn’t so sure it would be wise to get close to him. When she’d left during the night, he’d been dreaming in his restless sleep and it had been impossible to miss the tears on his face, glistening in the moonlight.
Prudence paused, took off her pack and set it down.
Somehow, she needed to get out of this desert and find water. With her skin blistering and sore, she lost more energy every hour. The map she had couldn’t be drawn in proportion. The cartographer must’ve taken liberties with the size of the Black Desert, assuming no one would be foolish enough to attempt to traverse the barren wasteland.
But she wouldn’t give up. She’d rather die out here than go back to Randolph.
Prudence shouldered her pack, wiped the sweat from her brow and set off again.
Chapter 11
Randolph brushed off a bucket and sat to watch Bronsen work. He didn’t trust himself to do the questioning; he was far too angry. Bronson, though, always kept a tight leash on his temper.
They’d located the pod Prudence had been in; she’d left a couple of sweaters behind he recognized. They had also found traces of blood in the pod, but after analysis, they’d discovered the blood belonged to Chief Payne. As far as they knew, Prudence landed safely.
Except she was gone.
Black Desert Outpost was the logical next stop. The buildings were the only sign of civilization near the escape pod. They must have come this way, but so far the denizens of the outpost weren’t being cooperative.
Bronsen, with the help of a few Blue Helmets, had three men strung up by their feet, their arms tied behind their backs and their heads swaying a bare inch from the floor. He sat on a stool in front of the three men and watched their faces grow red as the blood pooled in their heads.
One of the Blue Helmets walked over and placed two large buckets of water on either side of Bronsen.
“Now, boys, as you can see there are three of you and only two buckets here.” Bronsen smiled. “That means one of you gets to live.”
The men glanced back and forth at each other.
“So, let’s see who here is going to be talkative today.” He leaned forward on the stool. “Has a woman come through here in the last week?”
The big one in the middle stretched his lips in to a semblance of a smile, revealing a silver tooth. “A woman? Why didn’t you ask? Sure, a woman came through here.”
Randolph shook his head. They’d been asking about Prudence since they’d arrived. The ex-cons who lived in BD Outpost made it clear they wouldn’t talk to Blue Helmets. These men . . . these men were the reason he had to succeed. They represented everything he hated. They were criminals. Dirty. Sick. They were manipulative and dishonest.
Bronsen’s attention traveled to the man on Silver Tooth’s right, then to the man on his left. “You boys don’t want to play?”
“It’s like he said,” the man on Silver Tooth’s left said. “She came through, what, two or three days ago. Her and her man.”
Bronsen pushed one of the buckets toward the man on Silver Tooth’s right and a Blue Helmet shoved it under the man’s head. The water came up to his chin.
Both Silver Tooth and his chatty friend watched in horror as the other struggled, water splashing out of the bucket. He’d have upturned the pail by now had the young Blue Helmet not held it in place. The man’s struggles slowed, then stopped. It was all over within a handful of moments.
Randolph wet his lips. He loved this, the absolute total control. The brutal truth of pain and death. They were two facts of life that never changed, never lied. And these men, these thieves, liars, and murderers, they deserved the ultimate punishment. He’d never agreed with Alfred’s demands that these people be sent off-planet. They needed to be annihilated. Only then could there be true order.
The Blue Helmet regarded Bronsen. “You want him revived?”
“No, thank you.” His attention turned to the two prisoners. “One bucket is still in need of a head. So, she came through two or three days ago. What did she look like?”
Both men spit out their answers frantically. “Black hair, tiny bit of a thing.” Silver Tooth shouted at the same time the other stammered, “Short hair, purple eyes, real purdy.”
Randolph harrumphed. Not even ten minutes had passed and they were already turning on each other. They had no pride, no compassion for their fellow man. These men were selfish. Bronsen easily wielded all the power in the room. He was by far superior to these ruffians. Randolph shifted in his seat as his body began to respond to his lover’s show of dominance.
Bronsen glanced back at Randolph and winked before turning back to the prisoners. “Was she alone?”
“Big fella with her,” Silver Tooth said. “Shot one of my boys.”
“Yeah,” the other agreed. “He stole a pack with a bunch of our stuff. Ran off with some of our booze and our shaker of salt.”
Chief Payne was a thief on top of everything else. He was no better than these lot.
Bronsen nodded. “Good. You’re both doing real well. Now, which way did he go?”
The two men shared a look. “Don’t know,” they said at the same time.
Randolph shifted in his seat, his cock growing hard.
Bronsen slid the second bucket to the young guy on the left, who started screaming as the Blue Helmet approached, twisting and fighting as the young soldier placed the bucket under his head.
“That’s my son,” Silver Tooth’s cry ripped through the room, the anguish in his voice palpable. “That’s my boy.”
Randolph pressed his hand to his cock. His heart raced and his breathing jacked up a notch as pleasure shot through him. Oh, sweet heaven, he was gonna come.
Bronsen got down on one knee in front of Silver Tooth. “Then talk. Tell me what I want to know.”
“The son of a bitch locked us in here!” Silver Tooth yelled, staring with wide, teary eyes as his boy struggled. “It was windy, by the time we got out, there weren’t any tracks. We checked out the pod, but anything worth something was gone. They were nowhere around.”
Bronsen nodded to the Blue Helmet who pulled the kid up and moved the bucket out from under him. The young man sputtered and coughed.
“What else can you tell me?” Bronsen forced Silver Tooth to look him in the eyes. “Did they talk to each other while they were here? What did he take with him?”
Silver Tooth bawled in gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you. He had a gun. Said the woman was his. He was looking for someone, asked if there were any other men in the outpost. Took a pack, some food, liquor and night goggles.”
“You did good, big guy.” Bronsen stood. He removed the bucket from under the dead man, nodded to the Blue Helmet. They both stuck their buckets under the two prisoner’s heads at the same time.
Randolph moaned as he watched father and son find their ultimate truth together.
Chapter 12
He admired her.
Yeah, she was still a pain in his ass, but damn, the woman was tough as week-old rations. He’d followed her for the last two days, staying close enough to watch, close enough to help if she needed it, but far enough away to keep her from noticing him.
He had no desire to deal with a wounded female, but he couldn’t allow himself to interfere unless she needed help. It took him six hours to catch up to her, and by then, he was angry. Furious, actu
ally. He’d hung back, wanting to avoid a confrontation until he’d had time to calm down. But, as he’d walked behind her, watching her silhouette waver in and out of focus in the heat-baked distance, he got curious. What would she do now? How did she expect to survive? How far was she willing to take this little suicidal streak of hers?
He didn’t know many full grown men trained in survival who could walk out into the desert not knowing where they were going, or how to get to resources. The fact that she’d been going in a straight line, only stopping to rest when the sun hung at its highest and most deadly point in the sky, told him not only did she know where she was going, but she also had grit.
Her embarrassing second attempt at catching dinner informed him she didn’t have a clue what she was doing, nor did she have a weapon other than the Swiss Army knife.
Lastly, he knew she was hurting. Whether physically, mentally, or emotionally, he couldn’t say, but when the skies grew dark and he had no visual, he’d close the gap between them and off and on throughout the night he’d hear the occasional sniffle, the random sob. The first night, he thought she was afraid. He kept expecting her to come flying back in his direction screaming his name. But she didn’t. She kept right on trekking, no doubt leaving a trail of tears in her wake.
Part of him wanted to shout at her to stop with that nonsense—crying stripped her body of needed water. But if he were to tell the truth, out there in the pitch of night, stepping one foot in front of the other in the stifling heat with nothing but those mournful cries to follow, he may have let fall a tear or two as well. The sound of her hurt damn near broke his heart and made it impossible to ignore his own pain. At night, with nothing to distract him, he couldn’t hide from the faces of his past. He couldn’t shy away from his punishing thoughts.
A time would come when he’d be called to account for his sins, when he’d either have to find a way to redeem himself or succumb to the bitter hatred roiling inside him. And as he followed Prudence, their walk for survival sometimes felt more like a pilgrimage toward his atonement. Hopefully, at the end of this walk, he’d find Lucan. Certainly, at the end, he’d find the spaceport. And one way or another, soon after, he’d either die, or find relief in destroying Randolph Parnell.
The Last Marine Page 8