Red Zone

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Satisfied with his plan, he turned his back on the monitors, but he could still hear his prisoners whisper. Kane couldn’t quite make out the words, but from what he did manage to hear, they were talking about Striker’s family. Not a topic that interested Kane. Family was nothing more than sentimental weakness. It was why he’d rid himself of his as soon as been able. He’d learned early that a man with his skills made enemies easily, and it was best not to have anything those enemies could use as leverage. Not that his useless parents would have been much in the way of leverage, but it had been wise to eliminate the possibility—in the most permanent way possible.

  Of course, he’d made sure that the right people heard about what he’d done to his family. In the end, his useless parents had served a purpose—they’d furthered his reputation as a man to be feared. Mm, maybe he was sentimental after all, because listening to Striker talk about his childhood had brought back the happiest memory he had from his youth—watching the life drain from his parents.

  He tapped the console in front of him and connected with CommTECH’s head office. He hated the Coalition Countries. Hated that his implants were useless outside the Territories. He wanted to go back to New York, where his will was carried out with the merest thought. After a moment’s delay, Miriam’s face appeared on the screen covering the wall.

  “Is she dead?”

  Kane smiled. Miriam Shepherd always got straight to the point. It was one of the things he loved about her, in as much as he could love anyone.

  “Nearly. They’re locked in a monitored cell.”

  Her gaze sharpened, his meaning at once clear. “Are you recording it?”

  “Of course.”

  “No chance of escape?”

  “None.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” She practically purred the words, and not for the first time, he wished he found her even remotely attractive. He considered Miriam to be his soulmate, but she didn’t arouse him sexually. His needs lay in other directions.

  “When can I expect your return?”

  “Tomorrow. I need to clean up this mess. After that, I’ll meet with the mine management, to ensure ladmium production is on track. Then, I’ll be back.”

  “I look forward to it.” The communication ended.

  The CommTECH CEO was a piece of work. He’d never met anyone as intelligent or as ruthless. Aligning himself with her, instead of against her, was one of the smartest moves he’d ever made.

  He checked the monitors again. There was no movement from inside the little tent. No sound coming from the room. If the bioreadings for the cell hadn’t been telling him there were two bodies in the space, he might have assumed they’d escaped. But there was no escape. Not for them.

  Settling in at his desk, Kane went through the reports on the mine. It had only been running a year, and already it had supplied half the amount of ladmium they needed for their new data chips—at a fraction of the cost of buying the mineral legitimately. CommTECH would make a fortune from this deal. And not only in the Territories. If Miriam was right and her plans were successful, CommTECH would rule the world.

  And Kane would be the new world leader’s second-in-command. He liked that title very much. Leading had never appealed to him. He didn’t want the attention. No, he liked the ability to slip into the shadows when the need arose.

  Two hours later, Kane looked up from the reports he’d been reading to check the monitors, and found no change. Still, it was time to rip away their shelter and lay them bare for the cameras. Since his commlink didn’t work in Bolivia, he reached for the comm button on the console to call his security staff.

  Only, he never made it.

  The attack happened with blinding speed. The first he knew about it was a series of stabbing bites to his leg. He reacted fast, striking out at his attacker. But it was too late. He knew that when he felt the poison moving up his leg. An excruciating burning pain that made his vision blur. He reached for his gun as sweat broke out on his brow. Another bite. This time to his arm. Something moved behind him, crawling across his chair. No, not crawling. Slithering. Nausea assaulted him, and he vomited over his desk.

  His fingers turned numb first, and his gun fell to the floor. The pain was blinding. His arms and legs began to swell, as he felt another stabbing bite to the back of his neck. Too many bites. Too much venom. Blood rushed through his veins, propelling the poison through his system at the speed of light. His head fell to the desk in front of him with a thud, and he couldn’t lift it again.

  Antivenin.

  He needed antivenin. He let out a sound that was a mixture of laughter and screaming. He’d blown up the antivenin with the clinic.

  He’d killed himself.

  His heart surged, and it felt like it might burst. Agony wracked his body. His throat closed tight, trapping his screams. He couldn’t breathe. His limbs were swollen to the point where he felt like they would explode. His tongue filled his mouth as he gulped for air and got nothing. He gasped. Desperate. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. With one last shudder, his heart stuttered and stopped.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Striker knew exactly what his diamondback had done. He’d lived through the experience along with the rattler. And he’d taken great satisfaction in seeing justice served. They’d both known, man and snake, that there was no way the reptile could free them from their cell. Striker had sent it out hoping for a miracle—desperate for one. But he would settle for revenge. Knowing that Kane Duggan died in agony was small comfort, but he would take it.

  “You should have woken me,” Friday complained as she pushed up from where she’d been plastered to his body. “I don’t want to sleep my time away.”

  He suspected she was past having a choice in the matter. When he’d tried to rouse her, she’d grumbled and carried on sleeping. Her system had run out of fight. All it wanted to do was rest. He gently rubbed the blue smudges under her eyes. Her movements had slowed now, as though the slightest thing took the greatest effort.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “You sure you really want to know?” He didn’t. He wanted to live in denial. Happy in a world where Friday had all the time she deserved.

  She considered his question before nodding. He glanced at his watch, hating the timepiece for what it had to tell him. “It’s almost three.”

  She tried to hide a wince, but he saw it. “I took the poison just after six.”

  They sat there, in their little makeshift tent, looking at each other, neither of them wanting to acknowledge out loud that there were only three hours left. There was no lying to themselves now. No avoiding the fact that there wasn’t a place on earth they could get to fast enough to save her. And that was if they even managed to get free of CommTECH.

  She cleared her throat. “I need to use the toilet. Can you put your fingers in your ears and promise not to listen?”

  He burst out laughing, something he could have sworn would be impossible given the circumstances. He laced his fingers through hers. “The room is full of cameras and sound equipment.” There would be no privacy for her, no matter what he did.

  Her cheeks turned the cutest shade of red. “I know. But I can pretend they aren’t there. I know you’re here. Will you do it for me?”

  “Don’t you know I’d do anything for you?”

  She blinked hard, her eyes filling before she looked away. “Okay, then. Operation Toilet commencing.” The humor in her voice was forced.

  His brave, beautiful woman.

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it before she scrambled over him and out of their tent. Feeling foolish, he put his fingers in his ears because he’d told her he would. As he sat there, he felt his diamondback return. The snake was satisfied and strangely determined. It slid to the floor beside him.

  The threat is gone, it declared.

  I know.

  There was nothing more to say. The threat of Kane might be gone, but they were still locked in a
cell, watching Friday waste to nothing. The blanket shifted, and she crawled back into their tiny cocoon. With a smile, Striker made a production of taking his fingers out of his ears. Her laugh delighted him. And then her eyes fell on the rattler and lit right up.

  “Oh, you’re back!” She scooped up the deadly snake and cuddled it to her, as though it were a kitten.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t imagine any other woman on the planet accepting him and his other half the way she did. Not once had she made him feel like a freak. It was a gift he hadn’t expected to receive, and one he could never give up willingly.

  “Who’s a pretty boy?” she crooned to the rattler, and the damn reptile preened.

  “You’re spoiling that poor excuse for a handbag.”

  She shot him a querulous look. “Don’t call him that.” Her brows puckered, and a tiny line appeared above her nose. “Does he have a name?”

  “Why the hell would I name him?” Sometimes women were a mystery.

  “Because you can’t keep calling him ‘the handbag.’ He needs a name. Don’t you, boy?”

  Yes, the suck-up hissed in his mind. I like her better than you.

  He snorted a laugh. Of course it did. He didn’t baby the damn thing.

  “How about Sid?”

  “As in Sid Vicious?”

  “I don’t know who that is. I just like Sid.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, what about Sheldon?”

  “What? No!”

  “Slinky?”

  He couldn’t help his laugh. “Are you gonna work your way through all the names you know that start with S?”

  “Maybe.” She blushed again and stole his breath. She was so beautiful. He could look at her forever.

  A sharp pain made his heart clench. They didn’t have forever. He forced the thought from his head.

  “Sparkles?” Her eyes were alight with amusement. She was playing with him. The woman who’d grown up without play was teasing him. His chest tightened at the thought.

  I like Sparkles, the reptile said as it rubbed its head against her cheek.

  “I’m not calling my other half Sparkles. Damn it, woman. I might as well change my name to Fairy, so we match. He’s a deadly predator. He needs a strong, manly name.”

  She petted the diamondback while she thought about it and Striker felt her touch down the length of his back, where the reptile normally sat.

  “Satan? He took the form of a snake in the Garden of Eden.”

  No relation, his diamondback pointed out.

  “I’m not calling the snake Satan.”

  “It’s strong. Manly. Strikes fear into people.”

  “No.”

  “You know,” she considered him. “I didn’t know you were this contrary. It’s a character flaw.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “Okay, Mr. Difficult, what about Sam? He looks like a Sam.”

  He looked like a damn snake, that’s what he looked like. “I can live with Sam.”

  I like it, the reptile practically purred.

  “He says he likes the name.”

  With clear delight, she stroked the rattler’s head. “Do you, honey? I’m so pleased. You are such a beautiful boy. Aren’t you, Sam?”

  Striker wanted to vomit as the rattler crowed about how much she adored him.

  “You never pet me like that.” Yeah, he’d turned into a jealous four-year-old.

  She fought a smile. “Are you feeling neglected?”

  “Yeah.” Damn it. He really was. He wanted her close, not fawning over a bad-tempered diamondback.

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” She kissed the reptile’s head. “Go on back to Striker now.”

  And damned if the reptile didn’t do exactly as he was told.

  You are such a suck-up, he told it.

  You’re jealous because she likes me better.

  He felt that familiar sharp burst of pain as his body merged with the reptile. Damn straight I’m jealous.

  Friday crawled the short distance between them to kneel beside his hip, her fingers tracing down his cheek. “You are such a beautiful man.”

  “Only you would call me that.”

  “Will you take off your eyepatch for me? I want to see all of you. I love your unusual eyes.”

  He didn’t hesitate, removing the patch and placing it in the pocket of his jeans for safekeeping.

  “Thank you, Luke,” she whispered.

  He sucked in a breath at the sound of his name on her lips. It seemed different coming from her. More special, somehow.

  “Thank you for everything.” She cupped his cheeks and leaned into him, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips.

  Her words unleashed the helpless rage inside of him. His hands went to her hips, and he held on tight. She couldn’t leave him. She was his, damn it!

  “Don’t,” she whispered against his lips. “There’s time for anger and grief after. This time, the time I have left, it’s for us.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re killin’ me, bébé.”

  Each word was a blow. A nail to his heart. A brutal wound from which he would never recover. Never. He’d keep walking and talking after she was gone, but he wouldn’t live. He knew that. His life was wrapped up in hers, and a large part of him would cease to exist when she did.

  “Do you think,” she hesitated, her voice a whisper. “Do you think there’s anything there after you die?”

  It took a minute to answer. To make his voice work. “My Maman believed in Jesus. She said if you believe in him, you get to hang out in heaven forever. She wasn’t afraid to die. She said she’d get to live in Paradise.” His heart squeezed at the thought of his mother. He hoped she was right. He hoped she’d been living it up somewhere wonderful these past eighty years.

  “I like that. I never did believe in anything. But I like that. I don’t really know anything about Jesus, but maybe he wouldn’t mind letting me in, too. I’m sure if I knew him, I’d believe. And if I get to carry on after this life, in heaven, then maybe I’d meet your Maman there.”

  “You’d love her.” His voice was tight, and it hurt so damn much to use it.

  “I already love her son.” His heart stopped entirely at her softly-spoken words. She leaned back to look into his eyes. “It’s true, Luke Boudreaux. I really do love you. You slammed right into my heart the moment I met you, and you’ve been making yourself at home there ever since. I’ve never loved anyone before. Not one person. I always thought that, maybe, it wasn’t because I didn’t have anybody to love, but because I wasn’t capable of loving. I was wrong. I’ve been storing up my love all these years, keeping it safe, because it was meant for you. Only you.”

  “Friday,” he croaked the word. His eyes stung. His fingers flexed on her hips. His throat ached. “Bébé.”

  “These past four days. They’ve been a gift for me. More precious than you can ever know. I’ve tasted freedom and learned how to love. All because of you. I wouldn’t take a minute back. Not one minute.”

  He couldn’t speak. It was impossible because he knew if he did manage to get a word out, it would be to beg her to stay with him, something neither of them could make happen.

  “Make love to me, Luke. One last time. Please.”

  She didn’t have to ask. He was hers as much as she was his. And he would have told her so if any of the words in his head would make it out of his mouth. But they wouldn’t leave his lips. It would make it all too real. So, instead of words, he pressed his mouth to hers and enfolded her in his arms.

  His kiss was reverent. He needed her to know how precious she was to him. That he needed her. Wanted her. Loved her. So. Fucking. Much. Too much for words. Too much to let her go. How was he going to go on without her? How was it even possible?

  His arms tightened as though trying to hold her to this life. “I wish…” he managed to croak out.

  “No.” Her fingers touched his lips as she stared deep into his eyes,
seeing his soul, knowing all of him. “No wishes. No regrets.”

  He kissed her again, tasting every corner of her mouth. Memorizing her taste, the feel of her satin-soft lips, the small sounds of need she made when his tongue danced with hers. He kissed her with everything he had. Giving her all of him. Because he was hers. Only hers.

  With a glance to make sure they were still hidden from the cameras and she was protected, he reached for her shirt. This was their time, no one else’s. He hated that he’d failed her. That she was spending the last precious minutes of her life locked up when she’d desperately wanted to be free. She should have been in a palace, in a bed of satin, with the sun shining through the windows onto her golden hair. He felt his body tense at the injustice of it all, and the rage he fought to suppress began to bubble up again.

  “Shh,” she whispered as she cupped his cheek. “It’s just us. That’s all that matters.”

  He forced himself to relax and concentrate on the woman in front of him. He had to make every minute of the present count, instead of being angry at a future he was helpless to change.

  “Yeah, bébé, just us.”

  He helped her wriggle out of her clothes, and she knelt before him, a feast for a starving man. And that’s exactly what he’d been before she came along. His eyes trailed down her body, lingering on her soft curves and porcelain skin. She was perfection. And he needed to feel her skin to skin. He reached down, grabbed his shirt, and tugged it off. His pants and boots followed fast. She studied him, watching every tiny movement.

  “I love the color of your skin.” Her voice was husky with desire.

  He knelt facing her, placing his palm on the curve of her stomach. Enjoying the contrast of her moonlit skin against his earthy tones.

  “And your muscles.” She sounded awestruck as she ran her hands down his chest, tracing each muscle. “They make me want to bite.” The confession made her eyes widen, as though she’d surprised herself.

  “You can bite all you like. I might even enjoy it.”