“I-I-I…” She swallowed again. “How can you ask that of me when I don’t even know what you might want? What if you plan to harm me?”
She needed parameters. He could do that. He just couldn’t give her the details of why he wanted her and what he expected her to do. “Okay, here are the ground rules. I won’t do anything to harm you in any way. I won’t cause pain. I won’t inflict emotional or mental torture. I only want a year of your time and your compliance. It’s up to you. Just how desperate are you to live? Desperate enough to sign yourself over to a real outlaw?” He folded his arms and waited, confident she would make the right decision. She was seriously out of options.
As she thought it over, he signaled to the waitress for a water. A moment later the glass was placed in front of Friday. She snatched it up as though she were dying of thirst. As she drank, her eyes stayed on him. When the glass was empty, she clutched it to her chest. The cool, controlled facade she’d had in place since walking into the dive was gone.
“You can’t be serious, I can’t offer myself up as payment. It’s”—she cast around for the word, color leeching from her face as she did so—“wrong. No, barbaric. It’s barbaric.” Her blue eyes were wide with shock—or horror at the thought of spending a year in his tender care.
“You got some other way of getting me the credits you’d owe?”
He watched her eyes flicker as her agile mind raced through options. “I can pay you off over a set amount of time.”
“A payment plan?” He laughed again. She was too much. “For how long? Considering what you’ll owe me, bébé, you’ll be paying it off for the rest of your life. What’s one year compared to a whole lifetime of debt?”
“But it’s one year of…” The poor, sheltered little bee couldn’t even say the words.
“Of whatever I want,” he supplied helpfully.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
He shrugged. It was a pity, but not unexpected. “Then you die.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “There are no other options that you’ll accept?”
He knew his smile was feral and watched her shiver when she saw it. “Chère, you ain’t got nothing else to offer.”
He watched realization sink in and her shoulders slump. Striker didn’t like to see a woman defeated, but reality was sometimes a hard pill to swallow. He knew that better than most.
She licked her lips. “What happens at the end of the year?”
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go and leave you there.”
“Unharmed?”
“Unharmed.” But not unchanged.
Her hand shook as she put the glass back on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Striker saw the owner of the bar head toward them. Glen studied Friday thoughtfully, but wisely kept his conclusions to himself.
“Got incoming. Enforcement.” Glen cocked his head toward Friday. “They’re after her. They got a tip-off she was here.” He scowled as he scanned the room full of cash-strapped miners. “Not unexpected. They’re offering a reward.”
Friday sucked in a breath but didn’t freak out. Striker appreciated that.
“What do you want me to do?” The bar owner rubbed his jaw. It wasn’t a nervous action; it meant he was already thinking of scenarios and countermeasures.
“What’s it gonna be, chère? You need to decide. Time has just run out.”
“This isn’t much of a choice,” she snapped, showing some spine. He liked it.
“It’s the only one you have.”
She swallowed, bit her bottom lip, then straightened her shoulders. He’d expected to find dull acceptance in her eyes. Instead, he saw determination.
“Okay. I agree.” He could see her heartbeat throb rapidly in the curve of her throat. “One year, starting right now.”
He wanted to pump the air. He’d secured a geneticist for the team. Instead he inclined his head. “Good decision.” He turned to the bar owner. “The bike’s out back. We’ll need twenty minutes.”
“I’ve got you covered.” The big man strode away.
“Let’s go, chère.” Striker stood, holstered his gun in the rig strapped to his thigh, and held out a hand to her.
With shaky fingers, she curled her hand in his. He couldn’t suppress his grin of triumph as he strode toward the back of the bar, dragging his new acquisition along with him. Once they were somewhere safe, somewhere they could talk, he’d explain exactly why he needed her and put her mind at ease. Until then, he’d just have to let her imagination run riot, because they had more important things to deal with—like staying alive.
…
What have I done? What have I done?
Friday focused on Striker’s back as they hurried through the room. Her stomach clenched in waves, and she knew if she’d eaten any food at all that day it would have been decorating the floor.
A year with the smuggler, or death? What the hell kind of choice was that?
She’d signed with CommTECH to ensure that she wouldn’t have to sell her body to live, like so many of the women she’d grown up around. And here she was, doing it anyway. Forced into it by a pirate with a black heart. A year! What would he do? What would she have to endure? It was too much to contemplate. Part of her wondered if she wasn’t better off letting the poison run its course, instead.
She’d gone from one form of slavery to another in the space of a breath. At least with CommTECH, she’d had an idea what she was getting into. With this man, she didn’t have a clue. Did he expect her to be his sex slave for a year? What if he meant to sell her and earn his money that way? Was she to spend her year servicing strangers to pay him back for saving her life? Fear hit her hard, making her trip over her own feet.
“Come on.” He tugged her hand, his huge fist swallowing hers and reminding her of exactly how strong he was and just how helpless she was in comparison.
They pushed out into the humid air of the desert. Night had fallen, but the temperature hadn’t. He tugged her into a lockup hidden in the alley behind the bar.
“Wait.” She dug her feet in and fought to stop.
With clear irritation, he turned on her. “You want to die here? In an alley? Because that’s what’s gonna happen as soon as Enforcement arrive.”
Blood rushed loudly in her ears, making it hard to concentrate. Sweat pooled in the small of her back.
“I have to know.” She stared him in the eye, looking for reassurance. “I have to know if you plan to sell me to make your money.”
He hung his head and let out a long sigh. When he looked back up at her, his jaw was clenched. Anger? Frustration? She wasn’t sure which.
“I don’t pimp women. Your time will belong to me for the year. No one else will touch you. We’ll talk more about the details of our deal once we’re safe. But I won’t do anything to harm you. Got it?”
Relief made her tremble. “Got it.”
“Great. Now can we leave before someone burns a hole through my chest?”
“Wait. You said no one will touch me. But will you let other people watch us when we’re sexually active?”
He stared at her, dumbstruck for a second. “Woman, you have a sick mind. I’m not sure if I’m impressed, insulted, or worried. No, there won’t be any audience to any sex we might have. Happy?”
Might? What did that mean? Did he have something else in mind for her? If so, what?
He pressed his thumb to the entry-scan and opened the door to the lockup. It was dark, but Friday could make out the covered shape of a bike.
“Catch.” A helmet thudded into her stomach. She pulled it on.
He pulled the cover off the machine as she fumbled with the strap of her helmet. That wasn’t a hoverbike. The questions about his intentions fled, now that she was faced with something else she didn’t understand.
“What is it?” She watched as he straddled the machine.
“This, bébé, is a relic. It’s a fully restored, slightly adapted, Ducati.”
She must have looked blank, because she felt blank.
“It’s a motorbike. Vintage. Get on.”
“Where?” She looked for the passenger capsule, but there wasn’t one.
He looked down and shook his head. “Sit behind me. Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight.” When he looked back up at her, it was fierce. “Now.”
The word acted like a whip. It hit her hard, making her rush into action. She fastened the helmet and climbed onto the back of the bike. Sitting with her legs spread wide wasn’t comfortable. Having a strange man between them made it worse.
“Wrap your arms around me. When I lean, you lean, too.”
She did as she was told, although her face burned at the thought of being so close to him. But then, it was something she’d best get used to. The man owned her now.
“Tighter.” It was an order.
His muscled back was a furnace against her chest. She pressed her breasts flat against him, scooted forward until her hips were flush with his, and wrapped her arms tight around his middle. She clung to fistfuls of his shirt. He smelled of citrus and sandalwood, a heady combination that made her already roiling stomach quake.
The bike roared into life. She gasped at the noise. It sounded nothing like the low hum of the hover vehicles.
“Don’t let go.” With that last order, the bike shot forward, taking them into the balmy streets of Munroe.
They headed out of town, toward the glowing lights of the thirty-foot-high wall that marked the southern edge of the Northern Territory and the start of the Red Zone.
The world’s deadliest no-man’s-land.
And Friday’s only hope of escape.
Chapter Three
After three tries to remote communicate with her helmet using her now-defunct implants, Friday realized she’d have to turn on the audio manually. Getting used to life without her enhancements was going to be hard. Hopefully she’d have more than four days to work on it. A green light blinked in her visor to let her know she could now talk with Striker.
“Why are we using this machine? It’s noisy and attracts attention. You may as well send Enforcement a message giving them our location.”
There was a pause, and then deep rumbling laughter sounded in her ears. It surrounded her, making her shiver.
“This baby is faster on the ground than Enforcement hoverbikes, that’s why we’re using it.”
“But if they can hear us, they’ll just send someone up ahead to cut us off. I thought you were good at this outlaw thing. Was my information wrong?”
There was more laughter. She was beginning to wonder if she’d put her life in the hands of an idiot.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Yep, she’d get right on that. She looked over her shoulder. The beams from the Enforcement bikes blinked in the sky as they skimmed the rooftops. Her fingers clenched tight on his stomach.
“They can see us.” She leaned to the side, peering around the smuggler. Up ahead more red lights cut through the night. “They’ve cut us off.”
A strange stillness overtook her. So much for her great rebellion. It was all for nothing. She’d failed. There was no way they could get out of this. There were too many Enforcement personnel to count, and they were hopelessly outnumbered. She had no doubt that if either Striker or she was connected to the public communications network, they would have been flooded by messages telling them to surrender. But they weren’t connected to the network. And there would be no warning. Instead, she’d get blasted by laser fire and die, without even knowing it was coming. It was over. Her life was over before it had even started.
“Promise me…” Her voice cracked a little. “Promise me you’ll kill me before you let them take me.”
“Why so dramatic, chère? Nobody is gonna get you.”
“Promise me. I can’t let them tamper with my memories or my personality. I’d rather die than live like that. Promise me you’ll kill me.”
He sighed. The sound wrapped around her, easing her anxiety. “We’re gonna have to work on what you think of me. I don’t know what you heard, but I don’t kill innocent women.”
“Even to save them?” Her throat became thick. “Please.”
His muscles tensed under her hold. “Okay, chère. I won’t let them take you alive. But you gotta work on your faith in me. They aren’t taking us at all.”
With those words, the bike skidded, taking a sharp right into a tight alley. She gasped as her knee lightly skimmed the old brick while they drove straight toward the walled-off end of the alley.
“Striker!” She clenched her eyes shut tight. They were going to die.
She waited for the inevitable crash. It didn’t come. She opened one eye and looked over her shoulder. There was nothing behind her but the telltale shimmer of a holo-shield where the wall should have been. Fake. The wall had been fake. Just an electronic projection meant to fool the eye.
“No faith.” Striker shook his head as the bike stopped suddenly. “Get off.”
The alley was narrow, with barely enough space to stand beside the bike.
“You know what to do,” he said to the space behind her.
She spun to find a man and a woman. They were tall, dressed in black, and clearly amused. The woman smirked at Friday.
“You sure she’s worth it?” she asked Striker.
He ran a hand over his bald head. His white teeth shone in the dim light. “I hope so. Come on, chère.” He nodded at the huge man as he took her hand. “See you back at camp.”
The giant grunted, climbed on the bike, and revved the loud engine. The woman climbed on behind him. A second later, the bike roared forward through another shimmering holo-shield, which projected the image of a solid wall. Friday looked up. The wooden beams overhead seemed real. They also stopped anyone flying over from spotting them.
“Let’s go.” Striker pulled her toward a door cut into the wall of one of the buildings. It led to a narrow staircase that went steeply down into the earth.
“Your friends are decoys.”
He raced down the stairs, dragging her after him. “Yep.”
“The walls, they were camouflage—holo-shields. Was the roof real or another holo-shield?”
“It was real.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs, where he opened a reinforced door—twenty inches of steel. A tunnel lay behind it. It was narrow, barely wide enough to fit Striker’s shoulders, and the ceiling skimmed his head. She silently said a prayer of gratitude that she wasn’t claustrophobic.
Her mind distracted her from the small space by working on other problems. “They’ll detect the energy signature from the holo-shields. They’ll know where to look.”
“Not until they’ve chased the bike for a while.” He still held her hand tight in his. For some strange reason, Friday didn’t want him to let go. “And if they do find the shields, as soon as they open the door in the alley, the staircase will blow. They won’t find the tunnel.”
“You sound awfully confident.” And she wasn’t sure it was merited.
“We set up this escape route when we started using Glen’s dive bar as a meeting point a couple of years ago.” He glanced at her, clearly amused. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to use it. And, if the assholes don’t blow it up, it won’t be the last. This isn’t my first rodeo, chère.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He just laughed, which was seriously irritating. Her life was on the line and the guy was amused.
“You know that’s rude, right? Every time I say something, you laugh.”
“Really? You’re taking issue with my manners? We’re about a hundred feet below ground, running from men with guns, and you’re annoyed with my attitude. Is it any wonder I laugh?”
She scowled at his back but vowed to keep her mouth shut. “Does this tunnel run under the border?” Drat, that vow didn’t last long.
“They monitor the earth under the wall. You can’t tunnel th
ere.”
So where did the tunnel go? Why were they using it? How were they going to get past the wall?
There was more chuckling. “I can hear you thinking. That brain of yours never stops, does it?”
Now he was just trying to irritate her. “Do intelligent women threaten you, Striker?”
The sultry look he cast her way made her stumble. “All the damn time, bébé, but my luck’s held out, and so far, they’ve never carried through with it.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
As she opened her mouth to continue berating him, the dim lights blinked out. She gasped and, without thinking, closed the distance between her and the smuggler. He stood still, blocking the space in front of her—a solid wall of taut muscle. Behind them, the unmistakable sound of laser fire echoed through the tunnel. Enforcement was breaking through the door.
“Run.” He yanked her forward as he matched his order with action.
“I can’t see.” Her nails dug into his hand as she struggled to keep up with him.
“I can. Hold on tight.”
“How?” How could he see? It was pitch black. It was impossible. Unless her information was wrong, and he was enhanced somehow.
“No time for questions. Store them up for later. Right now, run.”
The ground was rough beneath her feet; the darkness, all-encompassing. Their panting breaths warred with the thudding of their footsteps, filling the small space with noise that echoed and surrounded them. The intermittent thump of laser fire hitting metal was a timer on a bomb behind them, the creaking of metal a signal that the door was about to blow. They were about to be trapped. Underground. In the dark. With armed Enforcement agents.
Friday’s lungs burned from gasping for air. Her heartbeat pounded loud in her ears. Her thigh muscles cramped. Too much time sitting in front of a computer. No time exercising, not even the recommended thirty minutes a day. She’d been too busy to fill her quota.
There was a loud blast. Metal crashed. Voices shouted. Footsteps pounded the dirt behind them.
Red Zone Page 2
