toward the Humvee. Staying in shadow,
taking her time, Remy nevertheless
moved quickly, and soon she was right
at the vehicle. It was hidden by a large
scrub of bushes in the shadow of the
building. She’d only seen it by chance
because of the way the moonlight hit the
metal.
She listened. Waited. Breathed.
She heard nothing. Crouching low,
she ran up to the truck and rose slowly
on her toes to look inside the windows.
It was dark, and hard to see for certain,
but she didn’t spy any shape that looked
human.
Once she was sure no one was about,
she carefully tried the door. It was
unlocked.
Heart beating nearly in her throat, she
eased it open, aware that an interior light
might come on but that she had to take
the chance. When the white light cut into
the darkness in what felt like a silent
explosion, she hardly winced. After
another quick look around, she climbed
inside and closed the door silently.
Blessedly, the light went out.
Hard to discern details in the dark,
but she saw that the front seats were
empty. On the floor in the rear, however
was a duffel bag. It could contain some
goodies—including a hint as to whether
this was Ian’s truck or not—but now
was not the time to dig through it. There
could even be a
gun
! Once she got away
from here . . .
Remy bent down to look under the
steering wheel well, where the secret
compartment with the ignition switch
had been located on Ian’s truck.
All at once the light went on and she
felt a waft of chill air over her back.
“Well. What do we have here?”
She froze. The woman’s voice
skittered over her skin like a thousand
spiders. She knew that voice. Very well.
Pulling out from her awkward
position, Remy found herself facing a
woman who was holding the gun she
coveted. Her white-blond hair was even
more silvery than usual thanks to the
moonlight, and the harsh shadows
highlighted her attractive but hard
features. Her thin lips were curled into
an unfriendly smile, red with color even
in the dead of night. She was tall,
slender, and wiry with muscle.
“Hello, Lacey,” Remy said, so tense
she felt ill.
“This must be my lucky day,
Goldwyn,” Lacey said, speaking to the
man who stood behind her. “Remington
Truth. In the flesh. Actually climbing
into my truck. As if she
wanted
to go
with me. How much better can it get?”
At
her
words,
Remy’s
heart
plummeted and her knees turned wobbly.
Oh God.
She knows my real name?
Lacey was nearly as powerful and
ruthless as Ian. Not only was she a
bounty hunter, but she’d been crystalled
by the Strangers as a reward for her
loyalty and hard work, which made her
immortal and that much more difficult to
kill. Her small blue crystal, embedded in
the soft skin just below her collarbone,
was displayed by a special hole cut into
her leather corset. Laced tightly, the
corset hugged the bounty hunter’s
slender, boyish figure, making her small
breasts appear larger. Her arms were
long and slender, corded with muscle
and decorated with leather wristbands.
But the blue crystal, smaller than Remy’s
missing gem, showed proudly through its
special opening, glowing in the night.
Remy had encountered Lacey when
she first met up with Ian, and several
other times after that. The woman hated
her on sight, partly because she was with
Ian—who was the best at what he did,
and whom Lacey wanted to partner with
—and partly because Lacey wanted to
be Ian’s partner in
every
way.
“I’ll shoot the signal flare,” Goldwyn
said, also holding a gun. Remy had only
met
him
once,
briefly,
but
she
remembered him well. He was an albino
with watery red eyes, and his chest was
as wide as the Humvee’s door, although
he wasn’t crystalled. Nevertheless,
getting away from either of them was
going to be pretty damn impossible.
“The fla—
No
, I don’t want you—”
But Lacey was too late; Goldwyn had
raised his gun and shot it into the air.
A brief arc of light curved above the
trees as Lacey turned on her partner.
“Not yet! You cocked it all up now,” she
said, gritting her teeth. “Damn.” She
turned to Remy, her features brittle.
“Well, we’ll have a little time before he
gets here.” Her smile became even more
unpleasant and Remy’s insides curdled.
“We have some catching up to do, don’t
we, my dear? Step out of the truck, nice
and slow now. Where’s that dog of
yours?” she asked, looking around
sharply.
Remy clamped her mouth shut. She
definitely wasn’t going to call Dantès
now. The bitch would probably shoot
him on sight.
Damn.
Now her best hope
was that Dantès would find Wyatt—no,
wait. Wyatt had double-crossed her.
He wasn’t going to be coming after
her if he’d taken the crystal, was he? She
was very confused. And very alone.
Remy felt a cold shock, as if a bucket
of water had just been dumped over her
head. What were they going to do with
her, now that they knew they had
Remington Truth? Bluffing was her only
option, so she said, “Remington Truth?
What are you talking about?”
Lacey backhanded her with her gun
hand, and Remy saw stars. Black waves
of nausea engulfed her and the pain sent
her spiraling into the dark memories of
her ordeal with Seattle. Her cheek hurt
and her head pounded, but she fought out
of the black vortex and forced her eyes
open. She made herself look at the
ground through her flashing, watery
vision, focusing on the shapes and the
reality of where she was . . . and the fury
she felt toward this woman.
“Don’t waste my time pretending. I
know who you are,” Lacey said. “And
you’re going to make me rich and
powerful. I won’t be hoboing it around
all the time anymore, once I get you back
to the Strangers at Mecca. I’ll be a
cocking
hero
.”
“I can’t imagine how that’s going to
happen,” Remy said, keeping her voice
strong with conviction. For now her only
option seemed to be to confuse and
delay.
Lacey’s eyes narrowed, and for a
moment Remy thought she was going to
hit her again. But Goldwyn put a hand on
Lacey’s arm and said, “Won’t help us if
she’s dead or messed up. Wait till he
gets here.”
“I’ll mess her up all right,” Lacey
promised. “Then we’ll see if he—” She
clamped her lips shut and glared at
Remy.
Her insides were a mess, her cheek
and jaw throbbed, and now Remy had
more questions: who was “he” and what
had Lacey been about to say? Possible
answers trammeled through her mind—
none of them pleasant. She felt as if
she’d been placed in the middle of a
nightmare and had no idea what was
going on.
“How long should we wait?”
Goldwyn asked. “He didn’t respond to
the signal flare. Maybe he’s out of
range.”
“Another ten minutes. Then we book.
In the meantime, bind her.” Lacey
gestured with her gun, and Goldwyn
grabbed Remy’s arms, forcing her hands
behind her back.
She felt him digging in his pocket,
then the strong, slender plastic the
bounty hunters favored for handcuffs
were twisted around her wrists. It was
painful and tight, cutting into her skin.
When Goldwyn finished, he smoothed
his hand up and down over the curve of
her rear, slowly and intimately.
“Very nice,” he breathed into her ear
before stepping away.
Remy swallowed hard and kept her
mind blank as black terror edged there.
This was not going to be like Seattle.
She couldn’t live through that again.
N o .
She struggled, fought back the
fear and the memories with every bit of
mental strength she had. If she let them
in, she’d be done. She wasn’t going to
think about anything but how to escape.
Not the future. Not about who was
coming. Not about Wyatt. Just now. And
here. How.
Lacey gave her a shove and Remy
bounced against the Humvee, her face
smashing into the metal edge of the door,
then away. Pain burst over her lip and
she tasted blood as she spun helplessly.
She caught herself before she fell to the
ground, tumbling instead onto the front
seat of the Humvee, barely missing the
steering wheel. She landed facedown,
her injured cheek and cut lip crushed
into the seat.
Bitch
.
The minute Lacey put her gun away,
Remy was going to whistle for Dantès. It
was her only chance. Once she got put in
the truck and driven off, she was done.
Lacey and Goldwyn conferred in low
voices and Remy tried to keep an eye on
them, waiting for them to let their guard
down. But Lacey still held the gun, and
the pain in Remy’s head made it hard to
focus. She had to fight to keep from
succumbing to the hovering darkness of
oblivion.
Then her captors stopped talking and
Remy heard the sound of someone
approaching. It took great effort, but she
dragged herself up and out of the truck,
wobbly on her feet, just in time to see
Ian Marck walk into the moonlight.
R
emy’s first reaction was relief, which
immediately changed to uncertainty
when her captors greeted Ian readily.
She leaned against the truck, the only
thing keeping her upright. Blood dripped
from her lip and her head felt two sizes
too big.
“You found her,” Ian said as he
approached with long, easy strides.
When he barely glanced over, Remy’s
heart sank into her nauseated belly. The
fact that he didn’t sound surprised made
her feel even worse.
“You didn’t respond to the signal,”
Lacey told him.
“I saw no need. As you can see, I
was close enough to get here quickly.”
Now Ian turned to look at her. “Damn.
What the fuck happened to her?”
“She was mouthy,” Lacey said.
“Pissed me off.”
Remy didn’t have the energy to
speak, but she was certain he read the
sentiment in her murderous glare. Ian
shook his head and turned back to Lacey.
“She doesn’t have the crystal.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
Remy wondered the same thing.
“She didn’t tell you?” Ian said,
moving to stand next to her. “I was with
her for a while, then we had to scatter
when the zombies attacked. I thought I
lost her.” He gave Remy a tight, cold
smile, and it was all she could do not to
spit in his face. But she wasn’t stupid
enough to let her emotions get the best of
her. She had to remain calm and cool
and think about her next steps.
“She didn’t say nothing,” Goldwyn
replied. “You were with her?”
“Didn’t I say that?” Ian replied, his
tones unpleasant as he raked over Remy
with his eyes. “Watch her,” he ordered
the albino, gesturing to Remy. Then he
turned to Lacey and took her arm,
leading her far enough away that their
conversation was inaudible.
Still hoping for any opportunity to
escape, Remy eyed the two of them.
Lacey bristled as she faced Ian, speaking
intensely. But as Remy watched, Ian’s
body language changed: he relaxed,
eased closer to the silvery blond woman
in the sort of sexy slouch a man did
when he was interested in a female,
bringing his hips a little closer, head
tilting to the side as he looked down at