her.
Remy had asked Ian about Lacey
once, when they were together. One of
the reasons Seattle hated Ian enough to
kill him was because he wanted Lacey,
and he believed she and Ian were lovers.
But when Remy asked Ian about Lacey,
he responded negatively, with great
disgust.
Fuck, no
, were his exact words.
Apparently, his opinion had changed.
Lacey relaxed visibly and Remy
heard the low, husky rumble of her laugh
as she fairly melted into Ian. They
shifted so that Ian’s back was toward the
Humvee, blocking Lacey from view, and
Remy saw him bend to kiss her. It was
not a brief one.
“Jealous?” said a deep voice in her
ear. Goldwyn’s presence engulfed her,
causing
her
stomach
to
pitch
unpleasantly. “I can take your mind off
that.”
Before she could move away, he slid
his arms around her from behind, pulling
her back against him so her bound hands
were against his crotch. Remy gagged as
he pressed his erection firmly into her
hands as his fingers moved around to
caress her cheek, then slide down from
her shoulder over her breast.
She shuddered, closing her eyes as
she tried not to vomit, tried to stave off
the ugly, dark memories that swarmed
her as she struggled to ignore the feel of
his hands on her.
Breathe.
She slammed
her heel down onto his foot then
squeezed the soft part of him pressing
into her from behind.
Goldwyn cried out in rage, and the
next thing she knew, she was spinning
toward the ground.
Someone caught her before she
landed on her battered face, yanking her
upright with an uncomfortable jerk of her
bound wrists. Remy looked up and saw
Ian through her angry tears. He wasn’t
looking at her, but at Goldwyn. “No,” he
said, his voice deathly cold.
“But you—”
“That’s right.
I
. Not you.” Ian smiled
down at her with a hard, cruel mouth,
then propelled her sharply toward the
Humvee. He wasn’t rough enough to
make her fall again, but she bumped
against the wall.
“Ian,”
Lacey
said,
her
voice
questioning, and flavored with the
slightest whine.
His mouth tightened, then softened as
he turned to her, sliding one finger up
her arm suggestively. Then, just as
smoothly, he asked, “Where’s the dog?”
She shook her head mutely. She
wasn’t sure she could even whistle for
Dantès, with her mouth cut as it was. But
she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Ian
anything.
Betrayed by two men in less than an
hour. What the hell.
“Remy,” Ian said, taking her by the
arms and yanking her toward him.
“Where the hell is your dog?” He was so
close she could feel his breath on her
cheek, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m
sure you don’t want anything to happen
to him.”
Something about his tone cut through
her pain and anger and she met his eyes.
A little ping of hope flitted through her
when she saw the intensity in his gaze,
then it faded. She knew better. “I don’t
know,” she managed to say through a
swollen, bloody lip. “He took off.”
Ian gave a short nod, then shoved her
away. Not enough to make her fall again,
but enough that she stumbled. Lacey was
watching them with a suspicious, furious
expression, and when her eyes settled on
Remy, they were filled with hatred.
Then, to Remy’s horror, Ian whistled
and shouted, “Dantès! Come.”
She started to shriek “No!” when
Lacey jammed the gun into her throat as
Dantès bounded out into the clearing,
leaping through the school window as if
he’d been waiting for the chance.
Ian looked at Lacey. “Keep that on
her. You—don’t say a word,” he
ordered Remy as he walked over to stop
Dantès from rushing up to his mistress.
Remy held her breath, feeling the
pressure of the gun barrel on her skin. If
it was pushing into her, it wasn’t aiming
at Dantès. She had that at least. She tried
to relax, because if her dog knew she
was in distress, he’d attack even without
her command. And then the gun would
go off. Ian knelt and greeted her pet, who
kept looking around him at her. Remy
closed her eyes briefly, praying, trying
to dissolve any tension Dantès might
sense.
“Remy. Tell him it’s okay,” Ian
called from where he crouched by the
dog.
“It’s okay, Dantès,” Remy called in
as steady a voice as she could muster.
Let him be okay. Let him go. Please.
The wave of despair and fear that rushed
through her was so strong, she felt a
great band of pressure constricting her
chest. Darkness flickered at the edge of
her vision despite the rising sun, and for
a moment her knees felt as if they were
going to give out.
Then Ian made a sharp gesture, and
after one hesitant glance at Remy, Dantès
dashed off into the woods.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Ian said
as he returned. “Now, before the mutt
comes back.” When Lacey opened her
mouth to protest, he snapped, “The dog’s
a loose wire. You want to take the
chance he might tear out your throat like
he did to Seattle?”
“Seattle’s dead?” Lacey sounded
gleeful. “Rocks.”
As she alternated between relief that
Dantès was being spared and despair
that she was being taken away so she
couldn’t be tracked, Remy was shoved
into the back of the Humvee with rough
hands. She landed on her face again, but
at least the seat was softer than the
ground. To her dismay, Goldwyn
climbed in the back with her and Ian
went behind the wheel, with Lacey
joining him in front.
The truck took off with a lurch, and
Remy bounced along, half on the floor,
half on the seat, as they barreled over the
rough terrain. Exhaustion, pain, and fear
eventually had its way, and she at last
succumbed to the darkness edging her
vision.
W
hen Remy became aware again, it
was to a bright, jolting world filled with
throbbing pain and a constant rumble
beneath her ear. Her mouth was dry and
when she tried to swallow, she realized
her swollen, bloody lip had stuck to the
leather seat. Her back hurt, her arms
strained behind her ached, and her head
pounded.
She blinked gritty eyes, and as the
sound
of
voices
penetrated
her
discomfort, she tried to listen to the
conversation. It went in and out, but she
caught some of it over the sound of
Goldwyn’s snoring and the vehicle’s
motor.
“. . . stop for a while.” That was Ian,
who was driving.
“But it’s just past dawn,” Lacey
argued. “. . . get to Mecca . . .”
“. . . find out where she hid the
crystal . . .” Ian again. So he thought
she’d hidden the crystal. But how did he
know?
“She’ll tell me,” Lacey said, the
anticipation in her voice. “I have . . .
getting information.”
Ian laughed. “I’d love to see you in
action.”
Remy closed her eyes as a dart of
renewed fear shot through her. What she
wouldn’t give for a drink of water. A
knife. A gun.
Even Wyatt.
She squeezed her eyes tighter as tears
stung them. She’d been alone before.
Alone and hopeless. She’d figure out a
way to escape, or die trying.
But the crystal was out of her hands
now, so she didn’t have to protect it. She
didn’t have to stay alive.
That realization was, in a bleak way,
a relief.
Now if there was a chance she could
convince them that she had nothing they
wanted . . .
No. She could be terrified later.
Now, she had to think. And in
regrouping and assessing her situation,
she realized the softness beneath one of
her knees was the duffel bag she’d
noticed earlier, when she searched the
inside of the Humvee. Maybe there was
something useful inside.
It
took
some
uncomfortable
contortions, but Remy was able to
squirm down to the floor and find the
zipper on the duffel, her face buried in
the space between the back of Lacey’s
seat and the rear. When she found the
metal tab, it took forever to get at the
right angle to catch it in her teeth—and
the bouncing, jouncing, jolting of the ride
didn’t make it any easier. But she bit
firmly onto it and then tried to work the
zipper open. She caught her lower lip in
the metal as the truck jounced and
caused the zip to surge open, but in the
grand scheme of things, it was a minor
discomfort.
But she’d barely begun to open the
duffel when the truck stopped abruptly.
She jolted forward, slamming against the
back of Lacey’s seat. She stifled a moan
of pain and tensed as the doors opened
and Ian and Lacey got out of the truck.
When the door next to her opened,
she prepared herself for an onslaught of
renewed violence, but it was Ian, not
Lacey, who pulled her out.
“Fuck. You’re a mess aren’t you?”
Ian looked at her with those cold blue
eyes. He steadied her on her feet,
holding onto her arm as if afraid she
would bolt. “I don’t want her to get
infected or sick. Liam won’t be pleased
if she dies before we get the information
he wants. We’ve come too far to fuck
things up.”
“Who’s Liam?” Remy managed to
ask, although the question came out more
like a growl.
Lacey started to retort angrily, but Ian
stopped her with a raised hand. “Liam
Hegelson,” he told Remy. “He’ll be
delighted to welcome you to Mecca.
He’s been looking for Remington Truth
—and the crystal—for a long time.”
“I don’t have the crystal.”
“I know,” he replied. “But you’re
going to tell me where it is.” The soft
menace in his voice was an unsettling
promise, and Remy’s heart thudded
heavy and hard in her chest.
The four of them went inside a small
brick building that was relatively clean
and unlittered. Obviously, it was a
regular stop-over place with which the
bounty hunters were familiar. The inside
was dim and sparsely furnished with a
sofa, chairs, and a table.
To Remy’s surprise, Ian arranged for
warm water—heated over a small solar-
powered device—to wash the blood and
dirt from her injured face. He also
ordered Goldwyn to snip away the
plastic cords around her wrists, and
Remy fairly cried with relief when she
was able to move her arms again.
“There are three of us and one of
her,” Ian snapped when Lacey protested.
“You don’t think you can handle that?”
“Whatever. But let me find out where
the crystal is.” Her colorless eyes
danced with anticipation.
“Be my guest,” Ian said, gesturing to
a chair. “I don’t like to get messy. But
what’s the hurry? I’ve got other things on
my mind.” The look he gave Lacey was
so slow and heavy, even Remy felt it.
The bounty hunter relaxed, nearly
oozing against him. Then she looked at
Goldwyn. “You stay here. Watch her.
We’ll be back. Later.” She gave Remy a
cold, cruel smile as she slipped her
wiry, muscular arm through Ian’s.
“That’ll give you time to rest. You’re
gonna need it.”
“T
ake the stones to Envy?” Cat said,
looking at her father. She put down her
cup of tea. “Why?”
Everyone knew about Envy—the
largest settlement of people since the
Change. It had sprung up in the months
after the massive catastrophe that
destroyed twenty-first century America