Escape Velocity (Off-World Series, Book 7): Sexy Science-Fiction Romance Novel

by Rebecca York

  Amber couldn’t hold back a disgusted sound.

  “What?” Max whispered.

  “I’m sitting in . . . I don’t know what it is, but it smells awful.”

  She moved a little, pulled some leaves off a nearby bush, and swiped decaying vegetation from her pants leg.

  But sitting in smelly muck was the least of her worries. Teeth gritted, she kept quiet as she watched light moving around inside the fence.

  “They’re looking for us,” Rafe muttered. He leaned toward Max, and the two men had a whispered conversation.

  “What are we going to do?” Amber asked.

  “Sit tight.”

  “But we’ve hardly put any distance between us and them.” she objected.

  “Right. They won’t think we’d stay this close to the camp,” Max answered, but she caught the uncertainty in his voice. Maybe this was the right strategy and maybe not.

  As she watched, some of the lights came closer, and she saw men who looked like the ones who had hosted them at dinner. Now they held electric torches, which they shined into the vegetation. Some were holding dogs on tethers

  She didn’t need Max to tug her into the damp leaves that carpeted the ground. Luckily the spot where she was lying wasn’t as bad as the previous muck.

  The three of them stayed stock-still as the torches came closer, and she silently prayed to whatever god would listen that the villagers or the dogs wouldn’t spot her or the two men.

  When the group paused nearby, the breath froze in her lungs, and she didn’t let it out until the beams finally moved on.

  By the light of the moons, she could see the hunting party. It consisted of men, mostly young, but she did see some of the ones she’d considered to be tribal elders.

  They reached the gate in the fence that guarded the compound. Most of the men and the dogs went out, but a couple stayed behind to guard the entrance.

  When the main body had moved away, Max squeezed her arm. “We have to find a better hiding place. Deeper in the swamp.”

  “Isn’t that more dangerous?”

  “What choice do we have?”

  She didn’t like it, but she knew he was right.

  “Why didn’t the dogs find us?” she asked.

  “I think they couldn’t catch our scent above the smell of the stuff you fell into.”

  “Lucky for us.”

  He turned and looked behind him at the dark swath of vegetation where too many dangers lurked. There was no way to tell what was out there.

  She followed his gaze. “Maybe it’s better to just go back,” she murmured.

  “We can’t,” Rafe shot back. “No telling what they’d do to us—now that we’ve showed we can’t be trusted.” He pulled down a small dead branch and held it in front of himself, testing the ground. When he was satisfied, he moved farther into the unknown.

  She watched his careful progress. Max stayed behind him.

  “Why don’t you walk beside him?” she asked.

  “Because it’s safer if we don’t make a wide trail for them to follow.”

  “Probably they can do it anyway,” Rafe muttered as he kept moving.

  “Are we going toward the ship?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” Max answered.

  She wanted to say they could easily get lost in the vast wilderness surrounding the Inheritors’ camp, but there was no use in pointing out the obvious to the two macho men who oversaw this escape. Instead, she followed, alert for the dangers around them. It was hard not to imagine the worst. What if a snake was hanging from a branch above? What if it dropped onto one of them? That thought made her shudder. There was nothing she could do about animals in the tree branches. But she kept her ears tuned for any change in the constant night sounds around them.

  Their progress was slow, and despite their best efforts to move quietly, she kept hearing the swish of vegetation as they passed or the crack of dried branches that they didn’t see on the ground. Each sound made her cringe. And she thought she might be hearing something else—leaves and branches moving behind them. She strained her ears, sure it wasn’t just the three of them disturbing the night. Something or someone was tracking them.

  Had someone from the search party found them? Did he have communications equipment, and had he already called in the rest of the searchers?

  As the stalker edged closer behind them, she grabbed Max’s arm.

  “What?”

  “There’s something behind us. Maybe one of the dogs.”

  Rafe had heard her warning, too, and they all stopped and strained to see into the darkness. Once they turned, it wasn’t hard to spot a pair of glowing green eyes not too many meters to their rear.

  Max dragged in a quick breath. “A wild animal. Not one of the dogs.”

  “It thinks we’re going to be dinner,” Rafe added.

  Max cupped his hands around his mouth to magnify the sound and roared like a savage beast.

  In response, the animal leaped back, but it didn’t fade into the darkness of the swamp and disappear.

  “Slat,” Max whispered. “I can’t keep making noises. Too bad we don’t have a beamer.”

  As if the thing understood his words, it closed the distance between itself and them again.

  Amber saw Max take a threatening pose. Then before she could stop him, he raised the homemade spear and charged toward the only part of the animal they could see clearly—the eyes.

  Amber fought to stop herself from screaming at him to come back. Instead she went rigid, every muscle in her body taut as she waited for a clawed paw to streak out and cut a swath across Max’s shoulder—or face.

  Max’s body blocked her view of the animal, but she heard the beast give a warning growl—which failed to stop the human’s charge. The next sound she heard was a yelp, then a scuffle of clawed feet as the beast made a hasty retreat.

  “Max?” As she tried to rush forward, Rafe stopped her.

  “Let me go.”

  “I’m okay,” Max called out.”

  When he appeared on the narrow trail carrying his spear, Amber leaped toward him, and he caught her in his arms. “I’m okay,” he said again.

  “You cut him?” Rafe asked.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what part of him I hit, but I think he’ll stay away from us.”

  “What was it?”

  “Some kind of big cat, I think. I can’t be sure.” He held Amber for another moment, then eased away, “Come on. We’ve made a lot of noise. We have to put some distance between us and this spot.”

  He cupped his hands on Amber’s shoulders and moved her forward. “I want you between us.”

  She didn’t object as they started forward again, with Rafe continuing to test the ground before every step.

  Every nerve in her body was now screaming danger warnings. What was going to spring at them next? Another animal? A search party from the camp?

  She was conscious of Max guarding her back. She should be the one at the rear of the column, not him. She was the one who had suggested coming to this damn swamp.

  They were tramping through dense vegetation. All at once one of the moons came out from behind a cloud, casting a silvery glow on a wide expanse of ground in front of them.

  Before she could figure out what she was seeing, Rafe stopped short, and she bumped into him.

  He made a strangled sound and started to tumble forward. Acting on instinct, she made a grab for his shirt, but he was taller and heavier than she, and the only effect was to send her falling onto his back. It seemed like a slow-motion disaster as the two of them fell down, down, down toward a gray surface that spread out like a lake in the middle of the greenery.

  But it wasn’t water. It was thick muck. Rafe slapped into the sludge with a terrible thunk. Moments later, he began to sink, his arms and legs flailing as he tried to free himself. She was still on top of him, pushing him farther under the surface.

  Someone was screaming, and she realized it was her. Letting go of Rafe’s
shirt, she tried to roll off him. All she accomplished was to dump herself into the gunk where she quickly started going down, struggling to keep her head above the viscous surface. Just before she slipped under, something grabbed her foot, and began to pull.

  When she tried to kick away, Max shouted, “Don’t fight me. Just let me get you out.”

  She tried to cooperate as she struggled to keep her nose and mouth free of the sucking sand. Slowly, slowly she felt herself being dragged back. Centuries later, he hauled her onto solid ground where she sprawled, panting.

  “Stay there.”

  From where she lay on the firm surface, she saw Max rush back to the edge of the ooze.

  Although she was still struggling to catch her breath, she pushed herself up and followed. Max was leaning over the edge, trying to reach Rafe who looked like a turtle that had flipped onto its back and was trying to right itself. At least his head was above the surface, but she could see that he was sinking as he flailed his arms.

  “Don’t move,” she shouted. “Try to just float.”

  His gaze shot to her as he tried to comply.

  Desperate to help, she looked wildly around and saw vines hanging from a nearby tree. Pulling out her knife, she cut off a length and rushed back to Max.

  “Can you use this?”

  “Thanks.” He took it from her, tied a knot in the end, and threw it toward Rafe who made a grab for it and missed. In the process he pushed himself farther into the morass. Most of his body disappeared, and now all he could do was desperately try to keep his nose and mouth out of the muck.

  With a curse, Max threw the vine again, and this time the knot landed in the middle of Rafe’s chest—if they’d been able to see his chest. He began to work his right arm up, trying to grasp the makeshift rope. The struggle to free the arm threatened to push his body down, but at last he was able to wrap his hand around the lifeline.

  “Hold on,” Max called as he began to pull Rafe toward the edge of the morass. It was a slow race to see if he would go under before he reached the edge. By the time he reached the shore, he was sputtering and coughing as the stuff slopped into his mouth.

  Max handed her the vine and lay down on his stomach, stretching out his arm and grasping Rafe’s wrist.

  He pulled his friend closer, and when the drowning man was almost to the edge, she lay down beside Max, scrabbling to get a hold on Rafe’s shirt.

  Together they heaved up the man’s limp body, which made a gigantic sucking sound as it came free of the muddy pit. To Amber’s horror, he looked like he’d stopped breathing.

  When he was finally on dry ground, Max turned him over and pounded on his back.

  At first nothing happened. Max cursed as he pounded harder. Finally, his friend began coughing. Max turned his head, and Rafe spit several gobs of mud from his mouth. When the hacking fit was over, he sat up, looking groggy as he swiped a hand through his hair. The gesture did nothing to sweep away the muck. It seemed to be glued to him, and when Amber looked down at her own clothing, she saw that she was in the same condition.

  “Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice urgent.

  “Yeah, thanks to you two.”

  “I just made it worse,” Amber murmured.

  “Only when you fell on top of me.” He laughed, then sobered quickly. “Then you were doing everything you could to get me out. You’ve come a long way since the first time we met—when you tried to kill me.”

  She felt heat rise in her face. “I didn’t know you then. I made the wrong assumption because I thought you had agreed to transport a slave.”

  “It was logical—from your point of view.”

  Max broke into the conversation. “And now I think we know none of us is going to get out of this alone.”

  For long moments, nobody spoke.

  Looking from Max to Rafe and back again, she said, “That was too close.”

  “Yeah,” Max answered.

  She could feel the thick mud starting to harden on her clothes and skin. Maybe when it dried, she could brush it off.

  She gave each of the men a direct look. “If we keep on like this, we’re going to get killed.”

  “What do you suggest?” Max asked.

  “Staying put until morning when we can see where we’re going.”

  “That may not be any safer,” Rafe objected.

  “What if we find a spot to sit down in a circle with our backs against each other? Then each of us is standing guard in one direction.”

  “Okay, that make sense,” he conceded.

  “But not here,” Max put in. “In case the Inheritors heard us making all that noise.”

  She nodded, accepting his logic, yet at the same time thinking that she didn’t want to walk very far through the darkness, now that she’d had a couple of lessons in the dangers of this place. Every step could be deadly.

  Rafe had lost his staff. Looking around for a replacement, he found a slender dead branch and pulled it down from a tree.

  “Amber needs one, too,” Max said.

  Rafe nodded and handed her the staff. When he had acquired a replacement, they started off again, moving carefully and skirting the lake of muck.

  They were walking up a slight incline. Every time they emerged from under the dense vegetation, Amber took advantage of the moonlight, trying to see where they were going.

  The men were apparently doing the same thing because Max called out, “There’s something over there.”

  She and Rafe stopped short, looking in the direction he was pointing. At first, she saw only trees, underbrush and more mucky ground. Then something out of pattern coalesced in the greenery.

  Peering at the anomaly,” she said, “That looks like a building.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe agreed.

  She took a step back. “We’d better stay away from it.”

  “Or maybe not,” he countered.

  “What if the Inheritors are in there?” she asked.

  “Does this place look like anything you saw in their camp?” Max asked.

  “No . . . but . . .”

  “You two stay here,” he said, “I’ll have a look.”

  A dart of fear stabbed at her chest. “Wait. Don’t go over there.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  When he started off, she tried to follow, but Rafe held her in place. “Safer if just one of us investigates.”

  Max was already halfway to the building. Maybe he was trying to move quietly, but now that they were stopped in the darkness, every sound he made seemed to boom out at her like the thudding hoofs of a herd of orex.

  She kept her gaze glued to him when he ducked low, making himself a smaller target as he approached the closest wall. He reached the side of the building, and she breathed out a sigh when nobody rushed out to attack him. He stayed there for several moments, then moved out of view, making her heart start to thud. She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to call out to him.

  Seasons passed before he came around the corner again—this time from the other direction.

  He looked back to where they were standing and made a “come ahead” gesture.

  Amber started to run forward, but Rafe restrained her.

  “Be careful.”

  Together they followed the route Max had taken through the muddy growth.

  “It’s an old house,” he said when they were close enough to talk in low tones.

  “Not like the villagers?” Rafe asked.

  Max shook his head. “No. It looks like someone from the city built a place out here, then abandoned it.”

  “Why would they come out here?”

  He shrugged. “To hunt or gather plants?”

  As he spoke, he led them around to a sagging front porch, where she saw a door hanging crookedly on broken hinges. The windows had once held panes of glass, but it was mostly broken.

  After following Max inside, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Finally, she could make out a room sparsely furnished wit
h a couple of chairs and a long piece of furniture with a padded seat, back and arms. It looked like it was made to hold several people—or one if they used it like a bed.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

  “A sofa. You don’t have them on Naxion?”

  “No.”

  “People sit together on it. This one’s seen better days.” He gestured toward the rear of the house. “There’s a kitchen back there. And it looks like a fight broke out.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can see a burn mark on the wall.”

  She cringed back. “Then this is a bad place.”

  “Maybe that keeps people away.”

  While they were talking, Rafe climbed the stairs and came halfway down again. “There are three bedrooms. And—good news—running water in the sink.”

  “From where?” Max asked.

  “A well, I guess. We can wash up.” He turned and ascended to the second level again.

  Max and Amber followed him up, where they found him opening closets. “There are some clothes in here. Some pants and shirts. Maybe Amber can wear a shirt, and we can take the pants—until we can brush the mud off our clothing.

  Amber crossed to the closet. The clothing smelled musty, but she supposed it was better than the muck on what they were wearing.

  She pulled down a shirt and held it up, judging the length, which seemed to be long enough to cover her thighs.

  “You go wash,” Max said, and we’ll keep looking around.”

  Gratefully, she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Before she could take off her ruined outfit, someone knocked on the door. When she opened it, she saw Max was holding a second shirt. “Use this for a towel.”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Quickly she took off her clothes and hung them on a wall hook before stepping into the tub. She didn’t want to sit down, so she stood in the tub and turned on the water, which ran cold. There was no soap, but she used the water to wash the parts of her body that had landed in the muck. When she’d cleaned up, she climbed out and peered in the cracked mirror over the sink, studying her face. The swamp and the washing had taken off part of the makeup Max had applied before they left the ship. Now it made her look like part of her skin was peeling off. With a grimace, she removed the rest of it, although she still looked like she’d crawled out of the bayou.