by Alison Aimes
At six foot two and honed from two planetary rotations as a slave in the Council prison mines, he was at the top of his game. If he’d struggled to escape the pit, there was no way anything smaller than him was getting out.
Breathing hard, he looked down at the hole and allowed himself a small smile.
Not the charming kind he kept in reserve to soothe his team or those recently rescued. Not the kind that had led his crew to give him the foolish Good Samaritan nickname he’d secretly liked. Before.
No, this smile was something different, born of the part of him he never allowed anyone to see. The part of him as far from charming and Boy Scout–like as a man could get.
But there was no need to hide now. No need to pretend.
Rubbing away the dirt on his right wrist, he examined the recent wound he’d kept hidden. A perfect human bite mark. Thirty-two tiny red marks. Thirty-two tiny dents from vicious teeth that had clamped down and somehow burrowed far beneath his skin. Thirty-two tiny new scars from a lush, pink mouth that stood in bewildering contrast to the dirty, ragged, wild animal who’d launched herself at him and screwed everything up.
Hard smile appearing once more, he traced the marks with his fingertips and promised himself their reckoning would be soon.
He was not only a good tracker, but a patient, relentless hunter. Once he covered the hole with debris, it would be next to invisible, especially in the dark. Her preferred hunting hour.
He’d gauged her patterns. Learned her routine. Knew she preferred to creep from her den at dusk, like all the other wild creatures of prey that skittered just out of reach.
Until a bigger, meaner predator ferreted them out of hiding.
He reached for his pack, loaded down with all the equipment needed for this particular hunt: rope, manacles, and some protein bars, with a secret drug surprise inside.
He wasn’t a bad person. Hell, at one point, he and the rest of his team had saved lives, fought for what was right.
But that was before.
There would be no returning to the settlement, or peace of mind, until he’d caught her.
Trapped her.
Tamed her.
And set himself free once and for all.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve got a lot of wonderful people to thank for their help with this book.
First, you! Yes, you. Thank you for reading my work. I know there are a lot of super books out there and I appreciate you plucking mine out and giving it a read. Also, thank you for taking the time to review it. You rock!!! (Yes, I’m making an assumption, but it makes such a difference in the success of my stories when you leave a review that I’m just going thank you in advance for doing me such a big solid. You are wonderful.)
Next, I’d like to thank Patricia Schmitt at pickyme for another gorgeous cover. Bev Rosenbaum for her insightful editing help. Beth Attwood for being proofreader extraordinaire. You guys are amazing.
A huge shout-out, too, to my amazing, always supportive readers Tricia Len and Janet Seavey as well as fellow author Lynn Winchester. Your support, reviews, and help in spreading the word is so appreciated.
Nor would I dare forget my daily writing buddy, amazing beta reader, and awesome author Monique Bona for keeping me honest and making the writing process fun. Checking in with you every day rules.
Thank you, too, to the brilliant Lynne Silver for taking time out of your busy writing schedule to beta read. Your insights made the book so much better.
Thank you, as well, to my dear friends Karen and Phyllis and Jay and Louise for their unending support and kindness, along with a willingness to let me whine. I adore you all.
A big thank-you to my kids for never reading a word and handling any crap they get from their friends. You are my everything.
Thank you, too, to my dad for his excitement and pride over each and every book. It’s just one more way I’ve been lucky to have you in my life. You’re the greatest dad.
There aren’t enough thank-yous for my mom for her extraordinary editing skills, unending nurturing, and creative brilliance. She’s there with me every step of the way and makes every moment better. There’s no one like her.
Finally, thank you to my husband for his encouragement, enthusiasm, and his absolute sexy, gorgeous self that inspires me every day. I’m lucky to be living my own love story with you—and, thankfully, ours takes place nowhere near a dangerous prison planet.
Thank you so all so much. Your support means everything.
xoxo,
Alison
Looking for more HOT reads? Turn the page to find your next great adventure.
EXCERPT FROM TRAPPED
Want to know what happened before Ryker met Jade? Read TRAPPED, Book One in the Condemned Series, the start of the exciting, sexy, must-read series.
Bella came awake with a gasp.Dizzy. Disoriented. Pain beat at her chest and shoulder as she forced her eyes open. Blaring alarms only added to her confusion.
One look around and everything crystallized. The crackle of fire. The blur of smoke. The sweet scent of blood and the acrid scent of burning flesh. Oh no, oh no, oh no. The shuttle had crashed. Fracture lines snaked through her helmet, obscuring visibility.
Frantic, she yanked off her helmet and squinted through the smoke. Fumbling with her straps, her siblings’ gaunt, hopeful faces slammed through her mind. They were depending on her.
A scream strangled in her throat. To her left, Steve Meyers’s sightless eyes stared back at her through his visor, a trickle of dried blood tracking from his nose.
She scrambled free of her restraints, tripped over a mangled piece of steel two inches from her boots, and lurched across the aisle, her hands landing on warm thighs.
A palm closed around her wrist.
“Cadet Davies?” she screamed over the shrill alarms. “Ava Davies? Can you hear me?”
“West?” The single word was a moan, but it sent Bella’s heart soaring.
“The ship crashed. We need to get out.” She was already feeling her way along her colleague’s straps for the release. “Are you hurt?”
“I…I don’t know… My head hurts. My leg, too.”
“We’ll take a look once we’re out.” Bella’s hand slipped from the restraint. To Davies’s right, Terrence stared back without blinking, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. The poor man. He’d never moon over Davies again.
“They were right. I…I shouldn’t have come.” The woman’s voice was oddly monotone, her arms hanging limply by her sides as if she didn’t care if Bella found the release or not. “I…I was wishing for death, and now look what I’ve done.”
Bella’s head snapped up. “This isn’t your fault. There was an accident.”
Knocked off-kilter, Bella forced herself to concentrate on finding her colleague’s release latch. Under normal circumstances, she’d have pushed the woman to explain. Davies was a part of the privileged Council elite, after all. Death should have been the furthest thing from the woman’s mind.
But now wasn’t the time to probe.
The rough nylon sliced the pads of Bella’s fingertips as she worked to find that damn release.
Finally, a click. Davies was free.
“I’m going to put my arm around you,” Bella instructed. “Lean on me—and try and stay low.”
She gave a small silent thank-you when the woman’s arm circled her waist and they were able to stagger together into something between a squat and a stand. Bella’s shoulder screamed as Davies’s weight pressed against her, but she pushed the pain aside.
“Bella?” A hand shot from the smoke to grab her arm.
She jerked to a halt. “Dr. Winthrop?” She didn’t use his first name despite the fact that he’d used he
rs. Command Council protocol was very clear on that point.
“I’m…I’m hurt.” Winthrop’s voice shook. Not a good sign.
“We’ll help.” She tried to keep the alarm from her voice. “We need to get outside. Fast.”
“You should go.” Shock left Winthrop’s voice oddly matter-of-fact. He jerked off his helmet with trembling hands. “The fire’s getting worse.”
“You’re coming, too.” She swiveled toward Davies. Her colleague had removed her helmet to reveal a nasty bump on her forehead and one of her legs was definitely not working right, but her eyes looked infinitely clearer than they had a second ago. “Davies, can you make it to the back exit without me?”
“Let me help.” The woman’s sincerity was easy to hear. As was her pain.
“Get to the exit,” insisted Bella. “That’s the help I need. We’ll be right behind.”
The woman grabbed her shoulder, her voice low. “Let me try. It shouldn’t be you who dies in here.”
“No one else is dying.” Bella gave the woman a soft push, surprised and touched that someone like her would even make such an offer. “Go.” When Davies still refused to move, Bella grew less gentle. “You’re only slowing us down. Go!”
She’d deal with whatever repercussions came from addressing a Council member in such a fashion later…if they all survived.
Davies’s lips flat-lined, but she didn’t argue. Or grow all haughty. Mouthing one more don’t die warning, she simply hobbled away, her awkward hopping gait instantly swallowed by the thickening smoke.
Bella swiveled back to Winthrop. “Can you get up?” Her fingers flew over Winthrop’s restraint straps, tugging, wrestling, searching for that damn opener. It gave way with a beautiful click.
Her arms came around Winthrop’s waist, her left side instantly wet. Blood. Enough to soak her clothes. She forced a smile and heaved. “You need to help me.”
His head lolled, his chin cracking into her temple. He was nearly deadweight in her arms. They’d never make it.
“Dr. Winthrop? Please?” Her voice splintered. There’d been too much death already. “You need to focus. You need to stand up. Now.”
No response.
“Help.” Faint at first, the plea from a few paces ahead grew louder and louder with each panicked bark.
Propping Winthrop back into his seat, she scrambled forward, waving away the thick smoke, deliberately avoiding looking at the two dead soldiers on either side.
“My belt’s jammed.” The minute he saw her, Officer Pogue threw himself forward, trying to tear out of the restraints. “I can’t get out.” He kicked his boot toward something on the ground in front of him. “There’s my knife. Cut me out.”
Seizing the knife with two hands, she hacked at the restraint. “Stop struggling. I’ll get you out.”
“Faster,” he urged.
Then with a final slice, the fraying restraint gave way. Pogue popped up on a roar. “Let’s go. The fire’s burning fast.”
“Wait. You have to help me with Dr. Winthrop. He can’t walk on his own.”
“No time. He’ll never make it anyway.” Pogue turned away.
“No.” She sprung at him, sinking her nails into his shoulder. She’d put up with his constant harassment because non-Council descendants stuck together and because he was a decorated soldier with useful survival training. She needed that expertise now. They all did. “I didn’t leave you. Take Winthrop’s arm. Put him between us. We can make it.”
When he still didn’t move, she grew desperate. “Do it. Or I’ll tell the Council you refused to help one of their own. Think your life will be worth anything after that?”
Pogue’s jaw tightened and, for a terrible second, she thought he might strike her, but then he was striding past her, knocking her thigh into the bench, plowing his shoulder into Winthrop’s stomach, and hoisting him upward into a fireman’s carry.
“Go,” he shouted.
Knowing he was right behind, she scrambled forward.
A moan came from the right.
She swiveled toward the sound, but Pogue’s big body rammed into her, making her stumble. “No more. You’ll get us killed. Keep moving.”
“But—”
“Go. Or I’ll leave you and your precious Council admirer.” Pogue barreled into her, shoving her hard.
“We can’t just leave the others here to die!”
Without another word, he slammed into her again, sending Winthrop’s boots into her hip and her sprawling forward on a pained gasp.
“Move or I’ll run right over you.”
That cowardly bastard. He’d begged her to save him, but refused to do the same for anyone else.
“Bella? Is that you? Bella, you’re almost there.” Davies’s terrified coaxing echoed from up ahead. “Come on.”
Hating herself, hating Pogue, Bella stumbled down the aisle. The burn in her throat had become agony, breathing difficult. Pogue was hard on her heels, ready to stampede over her in an instant. On either side, dark smudges taunted her with the possibility of other sightless eyes.
“You made it.” Soft hands grabbed hold of her arm, guiding her through a twisted hole in the wreckage she hadn’t even seen.
Bella’s knees hit the ground. Her head snapped up and she sucked in dry, hot air. Two orange suns blazed high in the sky. All around her, desolate rock and dust swirled in a tapestry of bleak browns and rust as far as the eye could see. Even the sky was the color of dried blood. No hoped-for vegetation in sight.
The trip had been for naught.
Pogue jogged by her, an unconscious Winthrop still in his hold. “Move away from the shuttle,” he roared. “It’s going to blow.”
Several soldiers followed. Apparently, Steve Meyers had been wrong. This time the back of the shuttle had been the place to be. At least ten of the military team still lived while everyone from the scientific team besides her, Davies, and Dr. Winthrop had perished.
Her gaze locked with Davies’s. They shuffled away from the burning shuttle. “All those deaths for nothing.”
A lone tear tracked down her colleague’s soot-covered face. “But we survived.”
An inhuman shriek rent the air.
Everyone froze. Eyes wide, the soldiers’ guns shot up, pointing wildly at the rocky outcroppings where anything could be hiding.
The hair at Bella’s nape prickled.
Yes, they’d survived. But for how long?
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EXCERPT FROM TAKEN
Want to know what happened to Cadet Ava Davies after her disappearance from Dragath25? Read TAKEN, Book Two in the Condemned Series.
She was caught. Taken. Her arms pinned to the wall. Her legs, too. Limbs twisted at an impossible angle. No manacles necessary. Just the cruel indifference of spinning, plummeting centrifugal force.
Cadet Ava Davies struggled to get air past the terror squeezing her lungs. One moment she’d been hustling down one of the rocky cliffs on Dragath25 toward fellow junior scientist and friend Bella West, her mind racing with excitement over her recent soil findings, the guard Pratt grim-faced at her side, and then…nothing.
She’d woken up here. To searing heat and ear-shattering screams. Her right cheek slammed into the wall. A painful burn beneath her skin. Twisted bodies flashing in and out of visibility.
“Davies? What’s…happening?” The voice was distorted, but she recognized the speaker. Pratt. The soldier assigned to guard her while she collected ore samples.
He’d never warmed to her. Nor she to him. Still, right now, his familiar voice was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.
“Not…sure.” It was hard getting the words out, the force of the drop driving her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “Other…crew?”
There was a momentary pause. As if Pratt was assessing whatever he could see.
“No.” The soldier’s single word was laced with despair.
“For…
the…better.” Still, a secret, shameful part of her wailed.
First the crash. Now this.
A few moons ago, bribing her way onto a scientific mission headed to the furthest outposts of space had seemed like a brilliant way to remain under the radar and follow the trail of other-planetary compounds that would lead her to freedom. Then, their shuttle had been brought down and she, along with the few surviving crew, had been forced to run from the planet inmates, murderers and rapists marooned on the planet by their home Council government.
Her surviving crewmates had complained of hunger, and terror, and the cloying red dust that found its way into every crevice and rubbed the throat raw. But not her. Grime and dust didn’t bother her. The threat of death was as familiar as her own heartbeat. She’d lived for years with clean skin, a soft bed, and ample food and never felt dirtier.
On Dragath25’s surface, at least she’d been free.
Until now.
“Where…are…we?” Pratt’s bellow reverberated off the walls, ripping her from her dark thoughts.
She strained to turn her head a quarter inch and caught a quick glimpse of the material slammed against her cheek. Dull-gray. Rough. Like the metal used back home.
Bile burned at the back of her throat. Maybe she was twisted, but she would have preferred unfamiliar technology. Anything that might suggest whoever had stuck her on this plummeting hell wasn’t human. Because while the possibility of encountering unfamiliar alien life was terrifying, she already knew how monstrous humans could be.
“P—pretty.” As if to prove her thoughts, the ominous earthly word issued from startling close by.
The next flicker of light revealed an outstretched hand near her nose.
Her gaze traveled outward. It was attached to a massive body. One covered in tattered scraps of fabric. One with the words 225 PROPERTY carved across the torso.
Her heart slammed harder against her ribs.
225 was head of the largest Dragath25 prison gang, his “property” a mob of rapists and killers exiled from Earth who preyed on anyone unlucky enough to cross their path.
