Beyond Fearless

by Rebecca York

  “I’m sorry to hurt you,” he whispered. “I can feel your pain. It’s almost as bad as if I were whipping my own flesh.”

  His voice was low and calm and chilling, and she felt his words like the lie that they were.

  Struggling for her own calm, she whispered, “I’m not very comfortable like this. Let me up.”

  Again he stroked her hair, then lightly caressed her face with his finger. When she cringed away from him, his features took on a look of sadness.

  “You’re afraid of me now.” ’

  “You kidnapped me. And you…”

  “Punished you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was necessary to adjust your thinking. You belong to me. Not that other man.”

  “You’re wrong,” she answered immediately, without considering the consequences.

  He stood, and the lash came down on her bottom again, this time with enough force to make her cry out.

  “The sooner you forget about him, the better.”

  She swallowed and said nothing. Then she jumped when she felt his fingers lightly caressing the skin he had just abused.

  His touch hurt, and she struggled not to wince. He took his hand away, and when he touched her again, his fingers were sticky with a lotion that eased the pain of the lash stings. Gently he caressed her as he spoke.

  “You think you bonded with him. But that’s nothing to the bond you will forge with me. His powers were puny. Mine are formidable.”

  Somehow she managed to press her lips together and say nothing.

  “We will not speak his name again,” he said, as though the matter were settled. “I’ll just call him your old friend. I know that you and your old friend swam to the island. But I also know you couldn’t have done it by yourself. So I’ll keep you on my boat until we’re ready for the ceremony that will bind us together for the rest of our lives.”

  “We don’t belong together,” she said in a soft voice, then knew instantly that she should have kept the observation to herself.

  The lash cut the air, then came down hard—this time striking across her back.

  “Soon, you’ll realize how foolish you have been. You and I have a bright future together. We both have great power granted to us by the Blessed Ones. And with that power joined, and with the help of the saints, we will rule Grand Fernandino. You and I together. It will be a great thing.”

  She could feel him standing above her, looking down at her. When he sat down on the bed and stroked his hand along the length of her spine, she struggled not to cringe away from his touch.

  “I have freed you from the slavery of falsehood. I could do the ceremony now.”

  Fear leaped inside her.

  “But you have been with him in the small hours of the morning.” He made an angry sound. “And I don’t take sloppy seconds.”

  Slowly, she let the breath trickle out of her lungs. He wasn’t going to…do anything to her right away. Thank God.

  Could he read her thoughts? She guessed not, since he didn’t hit her again. But she kept her gaze downward so as not to reveal anything.

  “Tomorrow, in front of my most important disciples, I will cement my bond with you.”

  He stood staring down at her, and she felt his mind probing at hers. The sensation was like hot pokers digging into her brain. No, not pokers—heated probes that gave her a little taste of his sick and sorry mind. She struggled not to react, either with any facial expression or mentally.

  He came down on the floor again and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes.

  “You felt me,” he whispered.

  She didn’t deny it, because that might bring the lash again, so she only lay there, willing him to go away and stop tormenting her.

  Did her silent entreaty have any effect on him? She didn’t know. But he left her strapped to the bed and walked out of the cabin.

  As soon as he left the room, she pulled against the bonds, trying to free herself, but she only hurt her wrists and ankles.

  Defeated, she lay still and closed her eyes, fighting panic.

  He had said Zach was dead. Could that really be true?

  Again, she cast her mind outward, searching for him. But, again, she found nothing.

  She wanted to cry. And scream. She wanted to call out to someone who would release her from her bonds. But the only other people she had seen on the ship were the men who had hurt Zach.

  And San Donato must have been hiding below deck, waiting for the men to bring her to him.

  Despite her best efforts, tears leaked out of her eyes and slid onto the bedspread. She wept for herself. And for Zach.

  But one thing she knew—San Donato would never have her. Not the way he wanted her. Because submitting to him would be a living hell.

  She wanted to disappear inside her own head, which was the only safe place to hide. But that gave him too much of an advantage. She had to stay aware. And she had to think of a way to get herself out of this.

  Fighting the sickness in her throat, she thought back over the conversation.

  He had said he would join with her in front of his most faithful followers. Could he really mean that? She knew he didn’t just mean a mental joining. He meant it to be physical as well.

  She shuddered. Did he intend to rape her in front of a bunch of other people?

  Because that was what it would be. Rape.

  She would rather be dead than join her body and her psyche with a man who had the mind of a reptile.

  Rather die.

  She’d said it automatically, but if that was her only way to escape, she would take it. But not unless it was her only option.

  “WAKE up.”

  The command was soft, a woman’s voice. For a moment, Zach thought he’d been caught in another dream—where a boat had come to the island and he’d ended up in a heap on the sand.

  “Anna?”

  “Wake up.”

  His eyes snapped open, and he saw a woman sitting beside him and a man standing behind her.

  Zach wasn’t on the beach. He was on a bunk in a cabin on a boat.

  Am I dreaming?

  “You’re awake.”

  His head throbbed. Around the pain, he remembered a boat. Men had come on a boat. The woman must have been inside, hiding. Along with this man.

  He would fight them. But he was weak, and he must get some strength back. So he stalled—with a question.

  “What have you done with Anna?”

  “Nothing,” the woman answered.

  You’re lying!

  No!

  Somewhere in his bruised mind it registered that he’d asked the question silently and she’d answered in the same way. The special way he and Anna could transmit meaning mind to mind.

  But he wasn’t capable of making sense of that at this moment. He only knew that these people had appeared. And Anna was gone.

  Unable to contain his emotions, he lunged toward the woman, grabbing her, his arm across her throat, pulling her back against his chest where he could hold her securely.

  He saw the man’s face go white. “Let her go.”

  “I’ll kill her if you don’t tell me what you’ve done with Anna.”

  He tightened his hold, and the woman gasped.

  The man’s gaze shot to her face, then to Zach and back again. It all happened in less than a heartbeat. Something struck him. Something he couldn’t even see. But it hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. And in the next second, he felt as though his head were splitting open and his brains were oozing out and running down his neck in slick rivulets.

  ANNA’S body jerked as pain shot through her head. She gasped and flopped against the comforter, too weak to move. Yet even as the agony overwhelmed her, she felt joy swell in her heart. She felt Zach’s pain.

  And that told her something important. Something precious. She knew he was alive.

  In the next moment, she understood the selfishness of that thought. He was hurting, and she could only think of herself
.

  Yet she understood her reaction. She had felt hopeless. She had vowed to kill herself if that’s what it took to get away from San Donato. Now she knew that Zach was alive.

  Was he here, on this boat? She didn’t think so, because that would have been close enough to reach him with the ability they now had. So was he still on the island?

  Zach. Zach. She called out to him, all the time expecting San Donato to come bursting in on her and punish her effort with more lashes of the whip.

  Zach. Zach. I’m on a boat. I don’t know where. Please, please find me.

  She tried to send her mind out to him, to tell him where she was. But the distance was too far.

  She’d only gotten that one moment of awareness—joined with a burst of pain. Now she was alone again.

  And afraid.

  ZACH heard a scream and knew it came from his own throat. As his breath choked off, his arm dropped away from the woman’s throat.

  She gasped and sprang off the bed, stumbling and almost falling in her haste to put distance between them. The man caught her and pulled her to him, holding her in his arms, his expression fierce with worry as he looked down at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He looked over her shoulder, his eyes like lasers on Zach’s face, and as he felt his own throat closing up, he wondered if looks really could kill.

  The woman cupped her hand over the man’s shoulder. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered.

  “Why not? He hurt you,” he ground out.

  “He’s already in enough pain.”

  He gave her a long look, and the pressure on Zach’s throat eased.

  She was the one who spoke.

  “We came to help you. We didn’t take Anna. When we got to the island, Anna was already gone.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry I…grabbed you. I thought you had her…”

  “No.”

  “I have to get her back.”

  “We will.”

  He looked at them, seeing them as individuals for the first time. “You were here—in the dream.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Jordan Walker.”

  “And Lindsay Walker. Those are our real names, although we don’t use them in public anymore. Now we’re Jordan and Lindsay West.”

  He studied their faces again and was sure they had meant him no harm.

  “I have to find Anna,” he repeated. Then a terrible sick feeling grabbed him, and he made a strangled sound. “Shit! San Donato’s got her. After he tried to kill me in the dream, he was here again—distracting me. He got me to light a fire and send out a mental distress signal, so I’d think we’d called the boat that came. And he got me fooling around with the weather—to make me focus on the wrong thing and use up my energy.”

  Lindsay winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.” He wanted to surge up and bang his head against the wall.

  Lindsay put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.”

  “I let him sucker me.”

  “And now you’re feeling like…without her you’re…only half alive,” Lindsay murmured.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll help you find her, but not yet.”

  Panic welled inside him, and he tried to struggle up again, but Jordan stepped quickly forward and pressed a hand firmly against his shoulder.

  “You have a concussion. We’ve got to heal it before you can go anywhere,” the woman said. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, looking at Jordan. “From that…mind zap you gave me.”

  “Not just that,” Lindsay answered. “Someone hit you on the head and left you to die. Slowly, painfully. You would have done just that—if we hadn’t found you.”

  He winced.

  “Lie back. We’ve started healing you. We need to finish.”

  He didn’t want to lie back. He had to find Anna. He was sure San Donato had her. He had no real proof. But he was sure the bastard had figured out their location and come to the island.

  He’d captured Anna. Next he was going to steal her mind away. And Zach was the only person who could stop him.

  Lindsay pressed a hand to his shoulder.

  “Let us work on you,” she murmured. “Otherwise, you won’t be any good to Anna—or to yourself.”

  He made a frustrated sound. He could feel time slipping through his fingers like grains of sand that he could never recover. Every second that San Donato had Anna brought her closer to disaster.

  Still, he knew that Lindsay was speaking the truth. Even the smallest movement felt like little men with pickaxes were banging away inside his head.

  With a sigh, he lay down on the bunk.

  Lindsay knelt beside him. Jordan walked forward to join her. They clasped hands, and Lindsay pressed the fingers of her free hand to Zach’s forehead.

  “Relax. Close your eyes,” she said as she stroked her fingers over his sweaty skin.

  He did as she asked, knowing he was taking a chance. She had talents he had never dreamed of, and she could hurt him or heal him. She was the one who would make that decision.

  He could feel power radiating from her, flowing into him like warm, honeyed syrup. It felt good. And as the healing energy enveloped him, he sensed something inside his head change for the better. He had been hurt. Now he was mending. And quickly.

  “How are you doing that?” he whispered.

  “We’ve been practicing. We can show you and Anna how to heal.”

  He answered with a small nod, thinking that he had to get her back first.

  Or was he kidding himself? Was it already too late?

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  RAOUL STRODE UP the companionway and out onto the back deck. Two of the men he’d brought along nodded at him, and he nodded back but said nothing. They knew better than to disturb him unless he invited them to approach.

  In the past few years, he’d done many services for his people—using the powers the gods had given him. And he was known on the island for his ability to curse an enemy or create a favorable outcome, like when he’d helped William Banda’s son pass the test that would get him into a school on the mainland. He’d brought people back from the brink of death. And he’d caused deaths—with the help of the saints.

  More than that, he’d sent money back to his village. Not just to individuals, but to the whole community. He’d built better houses for the people who lived there. He’d constructed vacation residences for rich people who wanted to get away for a week or a month—and have a ready pool of servants at their beck and call.

  And he’d created an enclave where his followers could meet and worship the saints with him.

  People in Palmiro and people still living up in the hills had come to rely on him to bring the favor of the gods into their lives. And when he’d needed this boat, some of his followers had borrowed it from a rich man who was not in residence now.

  He’d earned the loyalty and the respect of his people. He had made himself their priest. And his power with them was more than Joe Hondino had ever commanded.

  But his powers were nothing compared to what they would be when he joined his mind with Anna. She was already strong. And she would get stronger as he taught her the ways of the Blessed Ones.

  He walked to the rail and stood staring toward Grand Fernandino as they motored in the direction of the island.

  He had lied to Anna about being far from his base of operation, but he felt no guilt about telling her what he wanted her to believe. She had thought she could get away from him, but he had found her and brought her back. He would do anything necessary to keep her and bind her to him.

  And the sooner the better. In her dream, he’d sensed another man and woman—offshore in a boat. Were they real? Or had she made them up? He couldn’t be sure. But in case they were looking for Anna, he wanted her to be under his cont
rol before they found her.

  Let her think that she had more time. Probably she was trying to figure out how she could escape him. But he had a little surprise he would spring on her very soon. And then there would be no more thought of escape.

  One of the men came toward him, the man who had posed as a tourist earlier, and stood respectfully waiting for Raoul to acknowledge him.

  He allowed half a minute to pass before saying, “Yes?”

  “We’ll be landing in two hours.”

  “I want the grounds ready for the ceremony,” he said, expecting that his order had been obeyed.

  “I spoke on the radio to Franco. The brothers and sisters up at the enclave are making everything ready for you now.”

  ZACH pushed himself to a sitting position. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  Lindsay looked doubtful. “Your head isn’t completely healed.”

  “This will have to do.” He swung his gaze to Jordan. “I have to find Anna.”

  “I know. I know what you’re feeling.”

  “How could you?” he shouted, somehow keeping himself from making the protest physical. His emotions were barely under control, and the calm sound of Jordan’s voice grated at his nerve endings.

  Lindsay gave him an understanding look. “Because we’ve been through it,” she whispered. Closing her eyes, she clutched Jordan’s hand, even as she pressed her fingers more firmly against Zach’s forehead.

  Panic shot through him as the bunk where he sat and the boat disappeared. He was in another time. Another place. Lindsay was in a room with cold stone walls, strapped to a chair, unable to move. A man stared down her. Casually he reached toward her and ripped her blouse open, manhandling her breasts.

  Somehow, at the same time, from another vantage point, he saw Jordan, sitting in an office in the same building, facing two other men who kept their malignant gazes on him. And he understood that Jordan was struggling not to give away that he knew what they were doing to Lindsay in a basement cell. Because if they figured out Jordan and Lindsay could communicate when they weren’t touching, they would kill them both.

  As quickly as the images and impressions formed in his head, they snapped off, and Zach was left staring at the two people who had opened up their minds to him and let him share a few horrible and very personal moments of their life.