“Really?”
“I’m more worried about the delay. Jamar may get to the portal piece first.”
“Do you think he might already be there?”
“It’s possible his Raman ship could land in the dust storm.”
Shara used all her acting ability to withhold her satisfaction from showing. “Let’s not assume the worst until—”
“With Jamar one must always assume the worst.” Cade’s tone wasn’t simply cold, it was chilling. Deadly. “I learned that the hard way.”
“What do you mean? He’s already tried to kill us.”
Cade shook his head, his back stiff, his shoulders squared. “There are things much worse than dying.”
Shara could see Cade thinking about the past. Pain radiated from his gaze, and she ached for him. “Tell me about the portal.”
He pulled himself together, and his troubled tone eased. “It’s in three pieces. Once I recover the parts, I’ll have to assemble the device, tap into the Lamenium mine and the Pacific Ocean. The portal will automatically withdraw the salt from your seawater and send the salt back home.”
“How does it work?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. Our scientists have assured me the portal taps into gravitational forces and folds in space. The salt will arrive almost instantly.”
“What do you mean your scientists have assured you?” She frowned. “Are you saying they haven’t tested the portal?”
“They couldn’t.”
“Why not?” she challenged.
“If we’d tested the device on Rama, our Firsts would have known. We had to keep the portal’s very existence wrapped in secrecy.”
“What’s to prevent the Firsts from keeping all the salt themselves?”
“The portal will deliver the salt with a rain-like effect, spread it everywhere. The Firsts won’t be able to control all of us, all the time.”
She tried and failed to keep the worry from her tone. “You don’t know if it’ll work, do you?”
“It will work.” His expression was hard and fierce. “The portal has three pieces, three brains, any one of which is capable of opening the portal by itself. But in triplicate, there’s little room for error.”
Little room? She shivered. If his portal failed, it wasn’t his asteroid that would be destroyed, not his home world at risk. “How do you know that the portal won’t cause all of Haven to disintegrate? Or shoot it out of orbit?”
“Scientists have assured me—”
“Well, that isn’t going to reassure me.”
“They’ve checked and rechecked their calculations. The portal will work,” he repeated and gave her an odd look. “Our science got me here. Why would you even think that our science could fail?”
Because Jules had seen it! Shara couldn’t tell Cade that. “When you tap into the Lamenium to open up folds in space, you’re talking about tremendous forces. What’s to stop things from getting out of hand?”
“You’d be better off worrying about how to stop Jamar. He’s the real danger.” Cade’s face tightened. “And I’m becoming just like him. You should sell me your asteroid. Walk away while you still can.”
31
Jamar let himself into Teresa Alverez’s office, pleased when the private investigator looked up from her desk, her eyes widening in shock as she clearly recognized him. Immediately, she tried to recover, demanding, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I have need of your services.” Jamar slipped smoothly into the seat before her desk.
“We’re closed.”
“I can pay you well. Perhaps twice what Cade and Shara offered.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Teresa raised her eyebrows. She slipped her hand into her desk drawer—no doubt in search of a weapon. Jamar grinned. He always appreciated watching the fall of the I-can’t-be-bribed types.
This detour, which had begun as an annoyance, might turn out to provide some well-earned entertainment. He folded his hands in his lap. “Do you think you’re the only one who can investigate?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Humans tend to be creatures of routine. I staked out Ms. Weston’s former agent, manager, accountant, and private investigator and waited for her to show up. Now, you’ll tell me everything you know about Cade and Shara.”
Teresa aimed the gun at his chest, her hand steady, her gaze direct. “Get out of my office. Now.”
“You aren’t going to shoot me.” Jamar shook his finger at her. “Since you’re being so naughty, I’ll have to punish you.”
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”
“Surely you’d rather dance with me—than shoot me?”
“You are not the kind of dance partner I would ever choose.”
“Fine. You dance. I’ll watch.” With a mental shove of Quait, Teresa’s hips undulated. Astonished, her jaw dropped, and he burst into a snort of derision. “Really, Ms. Alverez. Your dancing would be much sexier if you weren’t wearing so many clothes.”
With satisfaction Jamar forced the woman to take off her shirt and bra and slacks until she stood before him naked except for her panties and heels. Confused, humiliated, and furious, she remained silent since he wasn’t allowing her to speak.
He snapped his fingers. “I told you to dance.” With no music, her movements not of her own will, she nevertheless gyrated her hips and spun and twisted into the most pornographic combinations he could think of. And after her body broke a sweat and she stood panting, he forced her to bend over her desk, her forehead down so she couldn’t see him.
Only thin panties separated her quivering ass from his view. His mouth watered as he imagined her terror at her helplessness. Perhaps if he was lucky, she would cry and beg before she began to scream.
“Ah, Ms. Alverez.” He allowed her to use her voice and snapped the waistband of her panties. She gasped, and he let out a laugh of satisfaction. “Do I have your complete attention?”
Over the years, he’d found the combination of humiliation, plus the fear of what he would do next, a potent combination that made the most stubborn woman eager to tell him what he wished to know. However, sensing Teresa had yet to break, he removed a belt made of thin, supple leather that he’d worn especially for this occasion. He snapped the leather in the air, appreciating the whistle, enjoying the flinch of her buttocks beneath the thin cotton panties.
He had no doubt she’d tell him everything he wanted to know. But he didn’t want her to give up the information too soon—that would spoil his fun.
32
One moment Cade sat next to Shara on the rocket, readying himself for final approach and landing, worried whether Jamar had reached Mars before them, the next second—out of nowhere—danger flashed at him.
Not just a hint of danger. Deadly danger.
Quait had fully kicked in, and suddenly, he knew—as clearly as if he’d seen his brother fire the missile—that Jamar had targeted this spaceship.
Damn it. How had he found them?
Now, Jamar was about to shoot them out of the sky.
Cade didn’t have time to speak. Moving faster than he’d ever done in his life, he wrenched Shara from her seat into a crushing embrace. She’d just turned her shocked gaze on him when the missile struck.
Their rocket exploded.
Tucking her head against his chest, Cade erected a force field around them, similar to the one he’d used during the fire. Giant pressure ripped apart the rocket, shredding and whipping at their flesh, but his shield held. Metal burst, charred, and twisted around them, and then they plunged downward with the debris, tumbling end over end toward the reddish Martian landscape below.
Shara clutched him and screamed, “We’re going to die!”
Cade closed his eyes, already grieving that he couldn’t protect the others. Drawing on his Quait, he kept the bubble-like force field up, but their descent was too fast.
“Slow u
s down,” Shara demanded.
“How?”
“Grow us some wings?”
That wasn’t possible. But suppose he changed the shield’s shape?
What if he could catch air the same way a parachute did? Falling, spinning, holding Shara close, he summoned his new powers and widened and flattened the force field above their heads.
“It’s working. Flatten it more,” she demanded.
“I’m trying.” He pulled on his Quait. Strained with the effort. They’d stopped spinning. Their feet now pointed toward the ground.
But the thin Martian atmosphere rushed by too fast.
“More. Slow us more.”
If they hit the dirt at this speed, they’d be toast. Burnt toast.
Shara didn’t weigh much. But her extra weight might get him killed.
For the sake of the mission and all those who’d sacrificed to send him here, he should release her from the bubble’s protection. Saving himself was the rational decision.
He couldn’t. Losing her would be losing the best part of himself. He didn’t know when she’d begun to mean so much to him. Maybe it was after she’d told him they couldn’t make love again—and then stuck around. Any other woman would have gone screaming in the other direction. That Shara had stayed—her devotion and loyalty—meant so much to him.
He couldn’t sacrifice her—not even if it meant failure. He’d always suspected he wasn’t ruthless enough, or strong enough to complete his task . . . and now he knew. He’d failed.
At least he would never turn into a monster like Jamar. He wouldn’t live long enough.
“Damn it, Cade. Slow us some more.”
Cade dug deeper. Perhaps, he could spread the force field wider, thinner. Every inch he gained increased the drag tenfold, but it took a terrible toll on his Quait.
With complete darkness below, he couldn’t be certain how much longer he must fight the tremendous forces. Couldn’t be certain how long he could last.
“You’re doing it,” Shara encouraged. “We’re slowing.”
Her words came to him as if from a great distance. He could no longer feel her in his arms, hear the air roaring by. Expending huge stores of mental energy and salt, he focused his every thought on holding the shield around them, over them, under them, spreading the force field of wings so far and wide that it might disintegrate at any second.
He gritted his teeth in fierce determination. Only the idea of Shara’s death, of her smashing into the ground and breaking every bone in her body kept him focused.
Shara must have felt his body straining with effort. She pleaded, “Hold on a little longer. I see the ground.”
He grunted, all he could manage, but the wind tore the sound from his throat.
“We’re coming in too fast. Too fast.”
Cade redoubled his efforts, gave everything he had. Sweat poured from him. When his feet touched the Martian dirt, his knees buckled. Everything went black.
He must have passed out. Because the next thing he noticed was Shara’s lips on his and the wondrous taste of salt.
Ah, her lips were feeding him life-giving salt. Her skin was not only flavored with the precious substance but fed him just enough strength for him to pry open his eyelids.
He couldn’t see much in the darkness—not even Shara’s face. Her silhouette hovered over him, but he’d recognize her musical voice.
“Cade. Are you all right? Are you in pain? Talk to me.”
He’d never been so drained, so exhausted in all his life. “Salt.”
Her voice filled with sadness. “The rocket is gone. Our supplies are gone. I think we’re in the Martian desert somewhere between Siren City and Mare Sirenum. And I don’t see any lights. Haven’t heard any hovercars. But you saved us, Cade, and once the sun comes up, maybe I can find salt in the wreckage. Next time we go to a store, I’m going to buy some string and tie a packet of salt around your neck.”
As he dipped in and out of consciousness, she talked to him. He couldn’t always follow her words, but at one point she’d drawn his head into her lap. She smoothed back his hair, and the next time he came to, she was still there, her eyes worried. Dawn was just breaking over the reddish horizon—a good thing since she was shivering with the morning dew.
The ground beneath his body was cold, chilling. She was shivering but he wasn’t—not a good sign. With his depletion of salt, hypothermia had begun to set in. But with the rising sun, the temperature climbed and chased away the chill much faster than he’d expected. The current problem was no longer cold, but the air was so dry, it was already sucking the moisture out of his mouth, making him crave both water and salt.
Weak, so weak, he couldn’t raise his head. They needed salt, water, and shade in that order. Somewhat of an expert in survival, Cade wanted to tell her what to do, but he couldn’t force the words out of his throat.
His eyes closed. He heard her words as if she was talking from the bottom of a deep well.
“Cade. Talk to me. Cade, damn it. Don’t you die and leave me alone here.”
33
The next time Cade wakened, Shara was dribbling water onto his lips. He opened his eyes, and she tipped back his head. “I found this water in the rocket’s wreckage. But no salt. Be careful. The container’s edges are sharp.”
She raised his head and lifted a piece of curved plastic to his mouth. Gratefully, he swallowed the water, which barely soothed his parched throat, never mind curbed his craving thirst. Still, the liquid lifted his spirits and soothed his body. There was salt in almost everything from Earth.
“Thanks. Are you hurt?”
“Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing serious.”
“Good.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back, then pulled away to tie a cloth around his head, leaving a brim to shade his face.
The sun had risen, almost directly overhead. While it wasn’t hot, the air was so dry, the moisture was evaporating from his flesh.
When her head blocked the sun from his eyes, he could see her lips were cracked. Dirt and dried blood from several assorted scrapes marred her perfect skin that was already reddening from the strong sunlight.
She peered at him, her beautiful blue eyes filled with worry. “The rocket’s wreckage spilled over a wide area. So far, I haven’t found a working vidlink to call for help. And I haven’t found any salt.”
“You did good.”
“This afternoon, I’ll walk in the other direction and search.”
She shouldn’t be walking in the heat of the day. The effort would sap her energy. Yet, if she waited for dark, she wouldn’t see well enough to find anything.
“Stay.” At least he could keep her with him through the hottest part of the day. Wishing he could explain, knowing he didn’t have the strength to speak more, he clasped her hand again.
But he must have drifted off, because when he wakened once more, she was pouring more water between his lips. He swallowed, careful not to waste a drop, the wetness soothing his parched throat.
She’d scavenged scraps of material to wind around her head to shield her face from the sun. At least they both had some protection from the elements in their space clothing.
“Look what I found.” He hoped she’d found a vidlink, but she waved an unopened bag of chips in his face. “This was sitting all by itself, right in the shade of a rock next to a crater, as if waiting for me.”
She opened the bag and placed a chip between his lips. As soon as the salt touched his tongue, he felt an immediate zing of reviving energy coursing through him. During the fire, he’d depleted what little salt he’d had in his system. He’d had more reserve before he’d drained it again to protect them from the fall from the rocket. But this time, he was reviving more quickly. His body seemed to require less salt to recover.
He allowed her to feed him half the bag of chips before sitting up.
She closed the bag, carefully folding down the top. “We should save these. I don�
�t know if we can find more.”
“Agreed.” Despite the cloth around her head, her skin looked dry and cracked. He would insist that she drink immediately. “Is there more water?”
“The little I found was in a broken piece of plastic that may have once been part of the rocket’s water tank. You needed it more than I did.”
She’d given him every drop of water. Stars! Her gesture stunned him, and a part of his heart became hers. “The next water we find is all for you.”
“I’m okay.” Her lip cracked as she spoke, a drop of blood seeping.
He was even more determined to save her and assessed their situation. “Communications?”
Weary, she shook her head, and her tone reflected sadness. “I searched, but no vidlink. No sign of the others.”
He nodded and buried his guilt. He could do nothing for the pilots or passengers. As much as he wanted to express sorrow for their deaths, he shoved aside the inclination.
The next decision he made might be the difference between living and dying. Dehydration was already setting in, sapping their energy. When the sun went down tonight, the cold would be brutal.
So they needed water and fire. He shoved to his feet and slowly turned all the way around. Contrary to city dwellers’ opinions, the desert was not flat. Ridges and craters, cactus and dry grasses, and sand and loose rocks made up his view. As far as his eyes could see in every direction, he saw swatches of reds and patches of browns. And the scent of burned metal and dust permeated the dryness of every breath.
“What are you looking for?” Shara stood beside him, focused on him instead of the bleak landscape. A woman accustomed to luxury, of buying whatever struck her fancy, she appeared to be holding up remarkably well. She’d foraged and found him salt, fed him their only precious water, and had yet to voice one complaint. He couldn’t have asked for a better companion—even if she had no knowledge of Mars, she possessed extraordinary common sense and a generosity of spirit in abundance.
Lunar Heat: 1 (The Heat Series) Page 15
