Stud (22 page)

“Yeah,
our
town—now that we’ve gotten rid of all the damned aliens. We aren’t about to let another one of you weird fuckers come around planting babies in our women.”

Knowing that he was probably incapable of planting babies in anyone but Lucy made this a moot point, but Tarq was suddenly seized with an overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of a gang of thugs, deeming it an excellent way to pass the evening. “I don’t think I’d enjoy fucking your women anyway.”

“Why? What’s wrong with our women?”

“Nothing, really,” Tarq replied. “But they probably don’t smell very good.”

“Are you saying they stink?”

With an insolent smirk, Tarq shook his head. “Your words, not mine.”

Tarq’s last thought as the man lunged toward him was that he’d been far too easy to provoke. Blocking his knife hand, Tarq smashed the mug in the guy’s face. Though it would never hold tea again, the mug still had a handle and was now a much better weapon, having acquired some very sharp edges.

Blood mixed with the tea in his beard as, howling with pain and anger, the man came at Tarq again, his knife held high. Tarq waited until the last second and ducked sideways, landing a kick that sent his opponent sprawling in the dirt.

“Come on, Fred!” another man urged. “Get off your ass and kill that sonofabitch.” This was seconded by the others, except for the one opportunist who was now engaged in stealing the speeder.
One
down, four to go…

Like most bullies, Fred didn’t have much in the way of physical courage, but he must’ve had some small measure of pride, for he got to his feet just in time for Tarq to kick him in the teeth.

Which was an unfortunate choice of attack for a man wearing sandals. His toes now bleeding, Tarq hopped backwards, stepping aside just in time to allow a totally pissed Fred to charge past him and run headlong into a tree.

Fred shook off the blow like a pesky insect bite.

“Are you sure you’re human?” Tarq taunted. “Anyone with a head as hard as yours must have a little Herpatronian in him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tarq saw his tent begin to collapse. Sidestepping another mad rush from Fred, he wished the others hadn’t taken him quite so literally. He was rather fond of that speeder and the tent had been very useful. Still, being left without money or transportation would give him an excellent excuse to go back to Natasha’s house. If she was as kind as he suspected, she wouldn’t turn him away, which would allow him to spend more time with Lucy.

The tent was tossed in the back of the speeder and two men jumped in and took off.
Two
down, three to go…

Fred, apparently deciding to fight dirty—as if he hadn’t been all along—began another charge, launching himself at Tarq like a missile.

Tarq dodged him easily, but for the first time in his life, he regretted having waist-length hair. To cut it would have been to deny his manhood, but in a fight, it was a liability. Fred snatched at it as he careened past, pulling Tarq down with him.

As if they’d been waiting for a signal, Fred’s buddies pounced, pinning Tarq to the ground with the sheer weight of their bodies. One landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Gasping for breath, Tarq tried to wrestle his way out from under them, but to no avail. Fred cackled with glee as he got to his feet. “About time you two decided to help.” He then kicked Tarq in the ribs, which had two effects. One, it hurt like hell, and two, it jolted some air back into his lungs. Unfortunately Fred was wearing boots rather than sandals. After several more well-placed kicks—some of them to his head—Tarq could barely see through the haze of pain and blood and was beginning to welcome death, or at least unconsciousness.

Fred gave him a kick to the ribs that nearly did the job. “We’re gonna make sure you leave our women alone, pretty boy. You’ve fathered enough kids.” Brandishing his knife, he knelt beside Tarq. “I don’t think you need those balls.”

Lucy didn’t hesitate. Her first shot missed, but the second hit the big thug squarely in the ass. Unwilling to risk hitting Tarq, she fired a couple more pulse blasts over the heads of the two who were sitting on him—which at least got them to move. Realizing that her shots were coming out of the dark kept her quiet; they couldn’t have known that Tarq’s rescuer was a lone female, and she wanted to keep it that way. As the two men tried to make a run for it, she actually hit one of them, dropping him in a heap next to the campfire. His buddy made a run for the trees, but Lucy switched to a wider beam and sent several shots after him.

She was rewarded by a loud thud just inside the woods and hoped he’d hit his head on a tree. Running to Tarq, she had to roll his heavy assailant off of him before she could tell if he was still breathing.

Even in the dim light from the campfire, she could see that his injuries were severe, if not life threatening. His face was already bruised and swollen, and blood from a long cut near his temple soaked his hair. He was still breathing, but his respirations sounded coarse and shallow.

Lucy sat back on her heels and looked around her. She was out in the middle of nowhere with four unconscious men, three of whom she was beginning to wish were dead. She had no idea how to help the fourth. Dealing with the demands of a counterfeit invalid mother had in no way prepared her to care for anyone suffering from such extensive trauma. Leaving him to get help was out of the question; as soon as his attackers came around, they would probably finish what they’d started. Then a solution occurred to her that had her laughing out loud.

“Lucy.” Tarq’s voice was the merest whisper, but that one word contained a sigh of relief.

“How bad are you hurt? I’ve seen this bunch of creeps before, and believe me, we’ve got to get out of here before they wake up.”

“Hard to tell,” Tarq rasped. “Haven’t tried to move yet.”

“Well, then, don’t—at least not until I’ve made sure they won’t come after us.”

“Don’t kill, Lucy… Not worth it.”

“Oh, I won’t kill them,” she said cheerfully. “But by the time I get finished with them, they’ll probably wish I had.”

She picked up the knife that had fallen from Fred’s hand. She knew him all right—had waited on him and his little circle of friends enough that she knew most of their names and even their favorite foods. Not that she had any intention of ever feeding them again. She turned the knife over in her hand. Though it had almost been used in a heinous crime, it would still be useful.

Not knowing how long the stun would last, she worked quickly. She cut Fred’s shirt up, wishing she had something just a little cleaner to use for bandages. Infection was the very last thing Tarq needed. Wiping the blood from his face, she examined the wound on his temple; it was clean enough, but still bleeding sluggishly. She made a pad of the fabric to apply pressure to the wound, and wrapped a bandage around his head.

Then she went to work on Fred.

Slicing through his belt loops, she yanked off his belt, rolled him onto his belly, and lashed his wrists together. Grinning wickedly, she cut his pants to ribbons and used them to tie his feet, being very creative with the knots. Wadding up his underwear, she stuffed it in his mouth and tied it in place. She saved one last strip for a very special cause. Turning him onto his side, she tied a slipknot in the fabric and, looping it around his genitals, pulled it tight.

“There you go, Fred. I hope your fuckin’ dick rots off.”

After relieving the other two men of their knives, she trussed them up in a similar fashion—minus the improvised cock strap—and then gathered up what little remained of Tarq’s camping equipment. The trivet and the pan he used to boil water were heavy, but she wasn’t about to leave anything that useful behind.

She went back to Tarq. He looked terrible, but she knew that falling apart at a time like this would be no help to him at all. “Can you sit up?”

Tarq’s nod was barely perceptible. He was already pale, but the way the color drained out of his face when she pulled him up by the hand had Lucy fearing that he would pass out. He didn’t, however, and after seeing Fred’s predicament, he even tried to smile. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“I don’t think you could ever make me
that
mad,” she said bluntly. “Listen, we really need to get out of here in case the guys who took your speeder come back looking for these three. Think you can walk?”

“Dunno, but I’ll try.”

Thankful that she’d filled her water bottles before setting out to Nat’s in the speeder, she got one out of her bag and gave Tarq a drink. Taking a sip for herself, she settled the bottle in her pocket where she could reach it easily.

Getting Tarq on his feet was hard enough, but helping him walk while keeping her bag from slipping off her shoulder and dragging on the ground, leaving behind an obvious trail, was even tougher. Having seen the speeder take off as she approached, she knew her supplies were all they had left; therefore, leaving them behind wasn’t an option. Nor was returning to Reltan. Out on the open road, they would be easy prey for any of Fred’s cronies, should they be followed. Lucy straightened up and shifted Tarq’s arm around her shoulder, wishing she’d been a little taller, a lot stronger, and more of the kick-ass heroine type—especially since something told her that going on to Yalka was a very bad idea. “We’ll have to try to reach the mountains.”

“Not Natasha’s house?”

“No. The whole place is burned to the ground—and it looks like it was deliberate.”

“Those men said they’d gotten rid of all the non-humans in Yalka.”

Lucy nodded. “It fits. Natasha’s husband is a Mordrial. After what these creeps did to you, I’m guessing they’re the ones who burned them out—maybe even killed them—which would explain why I haven’t heard from Nat in a while.” Lucy shuddered at the thought of her friend dying such a horrific death. “Nothing like this has ever happened around here before. There must be some really weird shit going on in Yalka for them to get away with it.” She paused, biting her lip. “And you can say ‘I told you so’ all you like. If I’d let you take me up to the house in the speeder, none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t blame yourself. If you’d been with me when those guys showed up, they’d have caught us both.”

If she’d been with Tarq, they’d have been in the tent right in the middle of—no, after barely talking to one another all afternoon, sex probably wouldn’t have been on the agenda. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They trudged on in silence. Lucy was thankful that they’d left the rocky wastelands behind and that there was still enough of a moon to light the way, otherwise one of them would have turned an ankle at the very least. The woods stretched on toward the foothills of the mountains, and she used the tree line as a guide, noting that the turf along the edge of the woods was closely cropped but not entirely smooth, as though grazed by cattle. It was treacherous in places, but it still made for easier going than trying to keep to the cover of the trees.

And speed was necessary. If the men who’d stolen the speeder should wonder what became of their cohorts and return, catching up to Tarq and Lucy would be simple. They had to keep moving. Lucy didn’t know how Tarq managed to keep walking, and when she stole a glance at him, she saw that his eyes were now swollen shut. Lost in a blind labyrinth of pain, he was relying on her to lead him. She did her best to pick the clearest path, but he stumbled occasionally and nearly fell more than once.

Never having been in that part of the world before, Lucy was amazed at how quickly the mountains loomed before her. “Foothills” was a misnomer; there was only one, and it was no higher than the hill Natasha’s house had sat upon. Lucy gave no thought to what they would do once they reached the mountains; it was a goal, nothing more, and was probably every bit as dangerous as the open road. They would be prey there too, but at least it would make any human pursuit more difficult. In her mind, all she needed was to reach a place where Tarq could rest in relative safety and she could tend to his injuries. Then they would decide on the best course of action.

If there
was
one.

Chapter 15

Agony numbed his mind to the point that about the only voluntary function Tarq had left was the ability to put one foot in front of the other. Pain and exhaustion had pushed everything else into the background. Lucy would have a hard enough time staying alive in the mountains without him slowing her down, and he cursed his weakness. The fact that without him and his current predicament she wouldn’t have
needed
to take refuge in the mountains made him feel even worse.

No matter how he looked at it, Lucy would have been much better off had the two of them never met. He had never made the first move on a woman. If they requested his services, he was more than willing to comply, but actively solicit them? No. Lucy had been the exception to that rule. In her case, he’d let his nose—and therefore his dick—overrule his better judgment. That mistake had nearly gotten him killed and Lucy… What would happen to a pregnant girl wandering through the mountains, burdened by an injured man? Vrelnots probably weren’t the only danger they would face. The mountains themselves would be treacherous, and food, water, and shelter would be hard to come by.