Yeah, he wasn’t so sure about that. In fact, he suspected the rattler had done more harm than good. He glared at the reptile, who was completely unfazed by his anger. I’m gonna deal with you later, he promised it. The snake closed his eyes and went to sleep.
“I’m tired.” Friday slurred the words, already falling asleep.
Her system was overloaded and shutting down. Even without the poison, the physical traumas of the Red Zone and the kidnapping were enough to send her into shock.
“Close your eyes, chère. I’ll watch over you.”
She gave a little sigh as she relaxed into him. A second later, she was asleep. As they walked over the field to their van, the diamondback decided it should merge with him again. It slithered over his shoulder, under his shirt, and fused with his skin. And it didn’t do it gently.
“Hell!” Striker stumbled, clutching at Friday to make sure she didn’t fall.
“What is it?” Mace had his gun out, scanning the area for threats.
“The scaly bastard just shared his pain with me.”
Told you. Sore.
“I’m really beginning to hate that forked-tongued asshole.” He heard the diamondback scoff at him before it fell back asleep. “Now I feel like I’ve been in a crash. This is another side effect of our new genetics that I didn’t need to know. Your animal gets hurt, he merges with you, you get the pain, and he gets to sleep.” He grimaced at his friend. “When are we gonna get to the upside of this new existence? ’Cause, so far, it sucks to be us.”
“Amen, brother.” Mace slapped him on the back, making Striker wince.
“Sore, damn it!”
“Sorry.” The asshole laughed, making it clear he really wasn’t.
Once the door to the van was open, he placed Friday gently on the bench seat. “Turn around. I’m gonna check her.”
Mace gave him his back as he kept an eye on approaching traffic. Friday’s captors might be dead, but that didn’t mean the threat had been eliminated. They now knew there were two separate factions after her. And one of them wanted her dead.
He ran his hands over her head. There was a lump the size of an egg above her temple. He assumed that was the reason she was still out cold, but he didn’t know for sure. It could have been that her system just shut down under the assault. Who knew what the chemical in her body was doing to her? He wished like hell that Doc was with him. She needed someone with more medical knowledge than he had to check her out.
“We got anything in the jet’s med kit that will wake Friday up? In case we need it.” In case she slipped into unconsciousness.
“You worried she won’t rouse on her own?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll ask the pilot. Make sure he has the kit ready for us when we arrive. Do we need a medic? I can have someone meet us at the jet.”
“Give me a second. I’ll check the rest of her. Right now, I’m most worried about the lump on her head.”
He pulled the T-shirt he’d given her over her head. There were bruises and red marks dotted over her torso. A scrape on her shoulder. He ran his fingertips over the abrasion. He should have been there. He should have prevented this. He should have protected her. Slowly, he moved his hands down her ribs, feeling for breaks. Releasing a tense breath when he didn’t find any.
Gently, he removed the oversize combat pants Sandi had given her. There was a massive bruise covering her hip, but no broken bones, no cuts. No lasting damage. His fingers trembled as he dressed her again. She was pale. Too pale. Her body kept taking hits—the poison, the red mist, this. How many more could she suffer until she didn’t bounce back? Didn’t wake up again?
“We don’t need a medic.” He climbed in beside his woman and took her into his arms. “Not unless she doesn’t wake up. But her injuries aren’t life-threatening.” They were just wrong. Her beautiful skin should never be marred by violence. Never.
Mace climbed into the driver’s seat. “The jet is ready to go. We’ll deal with her on board.”
“Any sign of trouble at the airfield?”
“No. There’s too much security there. That’s probably why they hit us en route. They took us out in the quietest part of town.”
“They shouldn’t have known where we were to begin with. We screwed up.” His voice was tight as he looked down at the woman in his arms. “Somebody shared information. We have a mole. Or a traitor.” The word left a foul taste in his mouth. They’d all been betrayed more than enough already.
“Once you guys are in the air, I’ll hunt him down myself.”
“And deal with him.”
“Permanently.” Mace’s voice was steel.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CommTECH headquarters,
New York City, Northern Territory
“What do you mean you’ve lost touch with your team?”
Miriam Shepherd sat with her hands clasped on the top of her glass desk, her attention very much focused on the holographic image of the Enforcement captain standing in the middle of her office. The man had managed to fail her yet again. It would be the last time she allowed it to happen.
“The last communication we had from the mercenaries stated they were under attack.” The man paled. His eyes kept shifting to the figure standing behind Miriam. She’d made no secret that Kane, her head of security and company enforcer, listened in on the report. The captain should feel nervous. After his update finished, he would have the pleasure of meeting Kane in person.
“The smuggler and his team attacked our men?” If they had, she’d seriously underestimated the group.
“No.” The Enforcement agent shuffled anxiously. “It was an unknown team. They seemed to be after the scientist, too.”
“Interesting. Did your team manage to find out who these opponents were?”
“Negative. All we know is that the other team was trying to take Friday Jones alive.”
Miriam felt cold rage work its way through her, turning her blood to ice. Obviously one of her esteemed fellow leaders had decided to pick up the scientist and download the information in her head. Yes, she could see the potential for scandal. Played the right way, information of the meeting could help someone usurp Miriam’s position of power.
The Enforcement captain cleared his throat. “Do you have further instructions, Director?”
“Not at this time.” She cut the feed, and the man disappeared.
Kane moved, rounding the desk to face her. “You want him dealt with.”
It wasn’t a question; Kane knew she did not tolerate incompetence. “I need you to find out who hired another team.”
He inclined his head, and Miriam knew it would be done. “I’m calling our contact within the smuggling group. I don’t want them to see you.”
Kane silently slid into the shadows on the other side of the room as Miriam used her implant to call up her contact. A few seconds passed before the shadowy figure of the Broker appeared on the screen.
“I need to know where Striker’s jet is headed.”
There was a pause. “That isn’t information I have or can get my hands on.”
“I need you to find out.” She bit out the words, making them snap like a whip. “Friday Jones is on that jet.”
“Your team’s failures have nothing to do with me. I gave you the information I had on their whereabouts.”
“And now I need more.”
“I don’t have more. My job was to supply them with transport and arrange the jet. Unless they need more transportation, they won’t be in touch. However”—the figure leaned back in his chair, comfortable in his position of power—“I do have one piece of information that may be of use to you.”
Miriam asked the only question that was relevant. “How much will it cost?”
The laugh was mocking. “Double.”
“Done.”
The figure leaned closer to the camera, as though sharing a secret. “Word is that your renegade scientist might not be a problem for very much longer. My sour
ces tell me that she injected herself with Interferan-X before she left the Northern Territory. Apparently, the poison was on hand in her lab.” He leaned back. “That’s all I know. I’ll be checking for a credit deposit shortly.”
The image disappeared, and Kane manifested from the shadows.
“I want the person behind that voice found and dealt with once this is over,” Miriam told him.
“It will be my pleasure.”
Miriam sat back in her chair as she looked up at her most trusted confidant. “Interferan-X? What’s the time between injection and death?”
“Five days, in total.”
“And she met up with the smuggler roughly a day after taking the dose. That means she has about a day and a half to get to an antidote. What clinics in South America store the antidote?”
“There’s only one. La Paz. You want me to arrange for another team to meet them there?”
“No. I want you to take care of this personally. I can’t afford any mistakes this time.”
Kane gave her a little bow. “How do you want it handled? Do you want me to have people waiting at the checkpoints to intercept them before they get into the city? Or do you want me to deal with them once they’re inside?”
Her smile was slow and wide. “I’ll leave all of the details up to you. I trust you will do what is needed.”
And have fun while he did it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Friday woke up disorientated, but aware that she was moving. No, that her surroundings were moving and taking her along with them. A jet. She was in a jet, lying on a soft bed with a warm body beside her. Her heart rate shot through the roof. Who was beside her? Where were they taking her? What were they going to do with her? And the diamondback? What happened to it?
“Bébé, you got to remember to breathe when you’re thinking.”
She did the exact opposite and held her breath entirely.
Striker.
“Please be real,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
She felt the bed shift and warm, gentle lips press against hers in a soft, slow kiss. “That real enough for you?” His words were a breath against her mouth.
Her eyes drifted open, and she found herself staring into the comforting view of his mismatched gaze. “I thought my kidnappers had me and were taking me to the Northern Territory.” At her words, disjointed memories of being hauled out of the crashed car came flooding back. He’d come for her, just as he’d promised.
Perfect white teeth flashed against warm mocha skin. “You think those assholes would have made you this comfortable for the trip?”
He had a point. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Couple of hours. We’re eight hours from La Paz, ’cause we’re taking the circuitous route.” He stroked her hair off her cheek, taking his time to run the strands through his fingers.
She glanced at the clock beside the bed. “I only have thirty-two hours until my time runs out.”
“If you take away the eight hours flight time, and the three hours it will take to get to the clinic, that leaves you twenty-one long hours to hang out in Bolivia after you take the antidote. We got plenty of time. Don’t worry yourself none about the timing. But, if you want to put that big brain of yours to good use, you could come up with some ideas about what we should do with the eight hours we’re stuck on this jet? Any thoughts?”
His fingertip traced the shell of her ear. She felt his touch ricochet throughout her body. There was only one thing she wanted to do with her time, and she was staring at him, with a smile on her lips that only he could produce under such dire circumstances.
“How about we start researching your DNA?” she teased.
“That’s one option, for sure.” His lazy drawl was like warm honey on her skin.
He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, and she could feel the heat of his body along the length of hers. Her eyes ate him up. His closely-shaven head, his stubble-roughened jaw, those mesmerizing eyes, and all that luscious bronze skin. His full lips quirked into a smile as her gaze scanned over them, down to his bare shoulders. She shivered at the sight of his muscles. Who knew shoulders could be that sexy?
“You like what you see.” He’d asked her that before, back in the bar when they’d first met. This time it wasn’t a question. It was the smug arrogance of a man who knew the effect he had on her. His fingertips traced her jaw to stroke down her throat. Everywhere he touched bubbled with sensitivity. Friday wondered if there were actual sparks flickering over her skin in the wake of his touch.
“Why are you naked?” She glanced down. “Why am I naked? And why does this keep happening to me? I lose consciousness around you and wake up naked.” She glanced around the room. “At least this time we don’t have an audience.”
His eyes were on hers as his fingers lightly traced her collarbone. “You stop getting injured, and you’ll stop waking up naked.” He frowned. “Scratch that. When you’re around me, you’ll always wake up naked. But I don’t like you getting injured, chère. This time you got banged up pretty bad when the car veered off the road.”
His words brought back the memory of being thrown about in the back of the car while the diamondback dealt with her captors.
“Your diamondback saved me.”
“When the talking handbag eventually wakes up, I’m gonna have a word with him ’bout that. I told him not to bite the damn driver. I told him the car would crash.” He let out a sigh, heavy with exasperation. “He told me to go to hell.”
She fought the urge to laugh. His words were at odds with his gentle touch. She felt decadent, lying there flat on her back with her arms at her sides, letting him touch her however he pleased. Letting him absently play with her as they talked. Her breathing became shallow, and her heart rate sped up. She wished his hands would roam some more. There were parts of her, intimate parts, that ached for his touch. She licked her lips. “To be fair. He didn’t bite the driver. The driver was shot in the head when your rattlesnake bit the guy with the gun.”
He let out a stream of creative curses, and she thought it best not to tell him she’d been directly between the gun and the driver’s head just before the shot went off. If she hadn’t thrown herself to the floor, she’d have taken that bullet. It appeared logistics and forward-thinking weren’t traits his diamondback possessed.
With bravery borne of desperation, she reached up and pushed the sheet from her body, watching as his eyes darkened at the move.
“Bébé? You’re injured. Maybe you should stay covered until you’re feelin’ better. A man can only resist so much temptation before he snaps.”
Trembling with need and nerves, she took his hand in hers and brazenly placed it over her breast. She gasped when their skin connected.
“I’m not that injured.” His hand flexed on her breast, and she fought back a moan. “I like how you touch me. It takes me away from everything in my head.”
“Bébé…” He sounded torn between his own need and worry for her.
“Please.” She bit her lip and waited for rejection, almost expecting it, because her life hadn’t taught her to expect anything else.
“You drive me crazy,” he said on a sigh. “I’ll touch, but we won’t go further. You’re bruised. You need to heal.”
“I need you more,” she whispered her confession.
His eyes blazed with emotion so intense, she needed time to figure out what it meant. He didn’t give her that time. His lips covered hers in a slow, sensual kiss that stole all thought from her mind.
Lazy fingers traced circles around her breast, making it feel swollen. Making it ache for a stronger touch. With each circle, he inched closer to her taut nipple. If nipples had emotions, hers would have felt desperate. It pointed upward as though trying to catch his attention.
With clear reluctance, he pried his lips from hers. “You feeling pain? The car rolled some ways across that field. I found you wedged under the back seat. With that damned rattler wrapped arou
nd you like you were his favorite toy.”
She couldn’t remember getting under the seat. All she remembered was the snake biting her kidnappers and the car speeding out of control. “I’m a little stiff.” She couldn’t resist arching up to push her breast into his hand.
He shook his head with lazy amusement. “I see that, chère.” His voice dropped an octave as his thumb rasped over her nipple. “But that’s not what I meant. No headache anymore?” That deep drawl of his should have been registered as a potent aphrodisiac.
It took her a minute to focus on his words rather than his touch. He was circling the areola around her poor neglected nipple. “No headache.”
“That’s good. I gave you pain meds while you slept. Just in case. Then I used magic cream on your bruises. They’re mostly gone now.”
She couldn’t stop the smile this time. “You were pretty busy while I was asleep. Magic cream, huh?” Her voice was unintentionally breathless as he abandoned one breast and moved on to the other. Her legs pressed together, and she began to squirm. It was hard to think. Hard to concentrate on anything but his touch.
“It makes bruises disappear. That shit is magic.”
He trailed his hand down her stomach, slipping the sheet lower as he went. His movements were slow and controlled, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“You’re going too slowly,” she complained.
He smiled as he playfully dipped a fingertip into her navel. The heat in his eyes made her want to give him anything he asked of her. Give him everything.
“I’m learning you, bébé.”
She licked dry lips. “Does that mean I get to test you on your knowledge when you’re done?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m gonna ace that test for sure.”
“Cocky.”
He chuckled as his hand slid beneath the sheet to play with the curls covering her mound. Her hips automatically lifted into his touch, searching for more.
“Nuh-uh, bébé, Slow. Remember you’re bruised.”
“I don’t feel bruised.” She cast around for the words. “I feel needy.”
“Is that right?” His fingertips slid through her wetness. She gasped; one hand flew up to clutch his shoulder, the other curled into the sheet beneath her. “We can’t have that. People be sayin’ I don’t look after my woman if she’s feeling so needy.”
Red Zone Page 17
