Red Zone

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  He’d promised he’d keep her safe, and he’d failed. He wouldn’t fail a second time. One way or another, he’d make sure Friday had the long life she dreamed of.

  A firm hand clasped his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. She must have been disorientated. It’s no wonder she stumbled into the mist.”

  He shook his head. “She didn’t stumble. I was walking beside her, to keep her upright, and she must have seen my arm touching the mist. She lunged into it to save me. She pulled my arm out of the damned mist.”

  Doc’s eyes grew wide. “She was trying to save your life?”

  “Yeah, she almost killed herself trying to save my life. I was never in any danger. I should have told her before we even entered the Red Zone that I wouldn’t be at risk. I should have come clean with her.”

  “No, you couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have believed you anyway, and you can’t give out that kind of information unless you’re in a safe environment. You made the right decision, waiting until you got to base.”

  “A decision that could have cost her life.” He brushed a strand of pale hair off Friday’s face.

  “You didn’t know she’d try to save you.”

  “No, I didn’t. But now that I do, it changes everything.” He ran his knuckles across her satin cheek, reveling in the warmth under his fingers that meant she lived. “We can’t let this woman die. No matter what it takes, she has to live.”

  Because she was his responsibility, and he owed her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday’s eyes snapped open, but she was blind to her environment. All she could see was the image in her mind. The one of Striker touching the red mist. She bolted upright, ready to run. To save him.

  “Striker!”

  “Shh, bébé, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Firm hands held her shoulders as she looked up into one unpatched eye of the deepest, most luscious brown.

  “I thought you were dead. I never intended for anyone to get hurt because of me. I’m sorry.” Her eyes scanned furiously over his body, checking for damage. None. There was none. “You’re okay. They got to you in time. You’re okay.” She sagged into his hold.

  “I’m good, me. It’s you who’s had us worried. Ain’t that right, Doc?”

  For the first time since opening her eyes, Friday looked around her. She was in a cave. A cave that had been fitted out to look like a barracks. There were metal framed cots along one wall, a makeshift kitchen near the cave entrance, and what was a medical area, complete with examining table and supplies. She looked down at the bed she sat on. Make that two examining tables. She occupied the other one.

  “Where am I?” She eyed the sheet covering her. “And why am I naked?”

  “You’re in the Bat Cave, chère.” Striker’s grin was pure, seductive mischief. “And you’re naked so I can have my wicked way with you.”

  “Seriously?” She looked around, noticing the two men who stood at the entrance to the cave and a third man walking toward them. “You want to have sex? Here? When I feel disorientated and we have an audience?”

  The men started laughing, and she frowned at them. This wasn’t funny. She’d joined CommTECH to ensure she wouldn’t have to perform naked in front of strange men—like the woman back in Munroe’s bar.

  “You promised people wouldn’t watch us,” she hissed.

  “Bébé.” The word rode a long-suffering sigh. “You’re in the medical area. You just woke up after being out for hours. You’re in no state to have sex, public or otherwise. But I’m beginning to wonder why that’s always the first thing on your mind. I’m thinking somebody wants me bad.”

  “You’re insufferable.”

  He gave her that Gallic shrug as his eye twinkled. “I call it how I see it. You’re obsessed with getting your hands on this fine body.” He motioned to his body, as though there were any doubt he was talking about himself.

  “Why am I here? You were the one who touched the mist.”

  “Actually,” said a tall, rangy man who stopped at the end of her bed, “you were the one who touched the mist. Fortunately, we got to you in time. You’re going to be fine.”

  “But…” She stared at the men. Was she losing her mind? She could have sworn she’d pulled Striker out of the mist.

  “This here is Doc,” Striker said before she could question them further. “And before you ask, you ain’t having sex with him, either.”

  The two men over at the door thought that was hilarious. She ignored them and looked at the doctor. He was long, lean muscle and overgrown sandy hair that he kept brushing out of his eyes. He looked like he would have been more at home on the back of a horse, patrolling the plains of Montana, than cooped up in a cave tending to her medical problems.

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “Army medic, ma’am. But as far as medical help goes around here, I’m as good as it gets.” He reached into the utilitarian metal shelves beside her and pulled out some clothes. “We had to dump your things. They got contaminated. These will have to do. The boss here will show you to the shower, and then you can get some food into you. You were pretty dehydrated when you came in, but we’re on top of that now. If you’ve got a headache, we can talk about pain meds. I didn’t want to give you anything while you were out, in case it interfered with the poison you took.”

  She brushed her fingers over the soft cotton T-shirt in her hands. It was old, worn smooth with wear, and must have cost a fortune to buy. Real cotton was more expensive than silk—rarer, too. It made her wonder how much the team made from smuggling. And why, if they made that much, were they holed up in a cave?

  “Nothing will affect the Interferan-X. Except the antidote.” She looked at Striker. “How many hours did I lose?”

  “A few. It’s late afternoon now.”

  “A few?”

  He smiled but his jaw was tight. “Twelve.”

  She trembled at the word. Too much lost time. “I have about three days left to get to Bolivia.”

  He put his hand over hers and brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “The hardest part is over, chère. You made it past Enforcement and through the Red Zone. All you’ve got to deal with now is the EMP barrier and a trek to La Paz. Three days is more than enough time.”

  She swallowed hard as she looked back down at the faded sheet covering her. “You’re right.” It had to be enough time. It wasn’t like she could ask for an extension. She either made it or she didn’t.

  “Come on.” He tugged at her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Everybody turn around,” he ordered, and the men complied.

  With help, Friday wrapped the sheet around herself.

  “You okay to walk?” He lifted her and placed her on her feet, ready to catch her if she began to fall.

  “I’m fine. I don’t feel weak. I can definitely walk.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but he turned toward the back of the cave and she followed. “We’ve got a few smaller rooms back here. The cave system is a labyrinth. We’ve only mapped a fraction of it.” He pointed to a large, well-lit space on the left. “That’s the training room.” There were mats on the floor and various weights and weapons dotted around the cavern. “This is the lab.” The large area had metal benches set up with various lab equipment.

  “Who works the lab?” And would they let her in to see what they were doing? For no other reason than professional curiosity. She glanced up at her host. Probably not. She couldn’t exactly be trusted around their secrets. Not until her data chips were removed and the monitoring chip was implanted. She forced thoughts of being monitored from her mind. She’d volunteered to have the implant, and she’d take responsibility for that decision. Even if it meant she’d have to give up hope of ever experiencing freedom.

  If she lived.

  “Doc works the lab.” He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her into another tunnel. “He trained as a pharmacist before signing up for the military. He isn’t just good-looking.” He cocked the eyebrow over
his unpatched eye. “Don’t bother denying it, I saw you notice.”

  She cocked an eyebrow back at him. “I don’t remember our agreement including a clause telling me I couldn’t look at other men.”

  His hand skimmed down her back to rest on the curve of her hip.

  “I think I’m gonna add that clause now.” His eye seemed to glow.

  She stared at him, wondering if she was seeing things and the poison in her system had started to kick in earlier than expected. No, his eye was definitely glowing, and it also looked more yellow than usual.

  “I was teasing,” she said softly. That strange, intense eye of his was mesmerizing.

  “I like teasing.” His voice lowered, the drawl a lazy purr. “I like playing. You can play with me anytime.” He nuzzled against the side of her head before moving closer to her ear. She stopped breathing when his lips touched the sensitive shell. “But just me, bébé, okay?”

  She was afraid to move, to breathe, to think. She clutched the sheet tight to her body and waited to see what he would do next.

  “You bewitch me.” He whispered the words against her ear, making her shiver. “I close my eyes and dream of how you might taste. Will you taste like sunshine, all warm and light, like your hair? Or will you taste like an aged bourbon, all passion in a concentrated bottle, ready to blow my mind with one little sip?”

  A tiny whimper escaped at his words. He had it wrong. He wasn’t the one who was bewitched. It was her. He’d somehow entranced her, and she was under his spell. His hand threaded into her hair, gently caressing, running the silken stands through his fingers.

  She leaned into him as her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. She desperately wanted to ask him to kiss her, to dare him to discover what she tasted like, but the words stuck in her throat, trapped by her own lack of courage.

  “Boss man,” an amused voice penetrated the daze in Friday’s head. “You sure you want to fool around with the client in the corridor?”

  Striker growled his annoyance and stepped back from Friday, leaving her cold.

  He turned toward the intruder. “What do you want, Sandi?”

  “Well, mainly I want to make sure you keep it in your pants until the mission is over. Or, at least until you get to your room. I’m fairly certain none of us could cope with the trauma of seeing you go at it in the tunnel.”

  “Smart-ass,” he grumbled with a smile.

  Friday looked past him to find the woman from the alley. The one who’d acted as her decoy with Enforcement. She was tall, muscled, and dressed in black, with a weapon strapped to her thigh. She studied Friday in a way that made her wonder if she should feel intimidated. She almost snorted at the thought. After a lifetime dealing with CommTECH, it would take more than a female mercenary to intimidate her.

  “I’m taking Friday to the showers,” Striker said.

  “So I see,” Sandi drawled. “I’ll do it. You’re wanted in comms.”

  He hesitated, running his knuckles down her cheek. “I’ll see you once you’re sorted. Sandi’ll take care of you.”

  He gave his fellow soldier a deadly look before he strode back toward the main cave. Friday pulled the sheet up tight around her and clutched the clothes she’d been given to her chest. She felt like a bug under a microscope as Sandi continued to stare, and it annoyed the life out of her. Who cared if she’d made a deal with the team’s boss, one that gave him rights to her? It didn’t mean she was less of a person. She lifted her chin and stared Sandi in the eye.

  “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

  Amusement flickered in the woman’s gaze. “Yeah.” Sandi closed the distance between them. With the heels on her leather boots she was almost a head taller than Friday. She came to a halt just inside Friday’s personal space and folded her arms. “I want to know if it’s true.”

  “Want to know if what’s true?” She would not cringe if the woman asked if she’d sold her body to Striker for a chance at survival. She’d done the right thing. The only thing she could have done. She was proud that she’d had the courage to make the decision, and she wouldn’t let someone take that from her.

  Sandi cocked her head. “Did you dive into the mist to save the boss?”

  It was the last question she’d expected. “Yes.” She didn’t see the point of lying. It wasn’t a secret.

  Sandi nodded. “You got courage.” She turned toward the interior of the caves. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ve got some pants you can wear that are closer to your size. But you’d better wear Striker’s tee. I don’t think he wants to see you in anyone else’s clothes right now. The boss is a little possessive.”

  Friday trotted after the Amazon. “Is he like that with everything he owns, or is it just me?”

  “Oh, you’re different, sugar. There’s no denying it. You’re something none of us were expecting.”

  Sandi led her into a smaller area that had been set up with shower heads. A heating system had been rigged up, and pipes led to the back of the cave, where she could hear running water.

  “What am I?” she asked, unable to help herself. “What weren’t you expecting?”

  “Hope.” Sandi turned on the water and stepped back. “We weren’t expecting hope. That’s what you are to Striker. You’re hope.”

  For a minute it felt as though Sandi could see right through her, and she fought the urge to swallow hard or run. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll get you those pants.” Sandi turned away, disinclined to clear the matter up. “Use any of the soaps you find. There are towels on the shelf. I’ll be back.”

  With that, the woman disappeared into the caves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After she showered, a barefoot Friday followed Sandi back into the main cave area. The smell of food hit her hard and her stomach growled in response. There were more people in the room now. Several men sat around a dining table, laughing and talking while they ate. Without exception, they were huge, muscled, and armed to the teeth.

  The conversation died as she entered the cavern, and she found it hard not to shuffle in place. She wished she were dressed in her regulation jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was like armor; it deflected interest. Instead, she wore combat pants, rolled up to stop her tripping over them, and the soft cotton T-shirt that hung to her knees. She felt like a child in a room full of adults.

  “Chère!” Striker’s voice had her head whipping around to see him come out of the training room. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

  He gave her attire a look of approval before wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her toward the kitchen area. She recognized the man on kitchen duty—Mace, the guy who didn’t know how to work a scanner.

  “I only make one thing,” he told her. “Chili. If you don’t like it, you go without.”

  He picked up a bowl, ladled a steaming serving of chili into it, and handed it to her. He nodded his head toward the table against the wall. “Bread and utensils are over there.”

  She looked down at the bowl then back up to the overgrown man. “Is this safe? Are you better at working a food unit than you are a scanner?”

  Striker barked out a laugh as Mace narrowed his eyes at her. “Just because you threw yourself into the red to save the boss doesn’t mean I trust you. Or think you’re worth the hassle.”

  “Now I really want to eat your food.”

  “Come on.” Striker wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You need to eat. Don’t worry about Mace none; he don’t know a thing about poisons. The food is safe.”

  “I’m completely reassured.”

  That earned another chuckle. They grabbed forks and freshly baked bread from the table before Striker led her over to the dining area. He pulled out a seat in the middle of the table and gestured for her to sit. She kept her eyes on the food as she did so, and not on the half dozen men who were staring at her like she’d arrived from Mars. Striker sat beside her, poured a glass of ice water from the jug on the table
, and placed it in front of her.

  “Keep up your fluids,” he ordered.

  She rolled her eyes at his bossiness as she hesitantly tasted the chili. She’d grown up with the food. Versions of it were a street staple in the areas around CommTECH. It was considered too lower class for most of the residents in the Territories, but to her the food meant home. And this one was good. She groaned her delight, closing her eyes at the bite of rich pepper and cumin, savoring the heavy amount of garlic.

  When she opened her eyes, everyone was staring at her, and she felt her cheeks heat.

  “Good chili, huh?” Striker sounded hoarse.

  “Better than meal replacement bars.”

  He snorted his agreement. “Eating dirt is better than meal replacement bars.”

  He reached for his fork, and his arm brushed against hers, making her whole body tingle. He was far too close. Their shoulders rubbed, their thighs pressed together—it was intensely distracting, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted in a room full of strangers.

  She shuffled her chair away from him and relaxed. For a second. Because, without hesitating in his conversation with the man facing them, he grabbed the seat of her chair and yanked her back—even closer than before. She scowled up at him and wondered how he’d like a bowl of steaming hot chili in his lap. As though reading her mind, he grinned at her. Infuriating man. He was amusing himself. Again. She’d never met someone with his sense of humor, and she wondered if she’d ever get the jokes.

  “You need to watch that one,” a man across the table said. “She’s plotting your demise.”

  Friday turned her frown on the blond stranger.

  His eyes crinkled with amusement. “I take it back. She’s plotting against all of us.”

  There was nothing to say to that—he was completely right.

  When they were finished, the men cleared the table, and she expected them to disappear, going back to whatever they did in their cave. Instead, they helped themselves to mugs of coffee and sat back down. All eyes on her.

  She elbowed Striker and whispered, “What have I done now?”