Not close enough.
She tried lying on her belly, her cuffed ankle extended toward Griffin, and stretching her hands toward the keys. She almost giggled in glee when they jangled beneath her fingers. It took her awhile, but she nudged them closer until she could wrap her fingers around them.
Prudence unlocked herself, then Griffin. The cuffs and keys went into her pack. They might come in handy, too.
Now, for the dangerous part. Kneeling next to him, she rolled Griffin onto his back. He was a mess—his cheeks were swollen and blood dripped from his mouth. She slipped the med-wand between his parted lips. The scanner clicked on, assessing the damage and beeped twice when finished. She withdrew the device, calibrated the wand as the scan suggested and put it back between his lips.
Griffin moaned when the device clicked back into action. Med-wands were handy tools, but painful. It took several minutes before the med-wand clicked off. She set it down next to him and used the edge of his shirt to wipe away the last few droplets of blood beading on his lips. She had to pull his shirt all the way up so it bunched under his armpits in order to reach his face, and that’s when she noticed his tattoo—the eagle, globe, and anchor over his heart. The mark of a Marine. She traced the outline of the anchor.
Her father had been a Marine. That’s how he’d met her mother. Daddy would be so upset by what the Parnells had done. She missed him terribly, but was glad he wasn’t around to see the country he loved so much fold without even the flicker of a fight. Her father had raised her to respect and depend on Marines. They were true heroes. Now Chief Payne was the last.
He was a beautiful specimen of a male. Lean and muscular, with the face of an angel.
Yes, well, the Christians’ Lucifer was an angel, too. That didn’t make him trustworthy.
Marine or not, she couldn’t rely on a male. Prudence forced herself to stand. She came to Asteria to be free. To be independent. To find her courage. Not to be further manhandled and abused.
She surveyed the desolate landscape. This was her new home. She’d studied every scan she could find on the place, learning about the plants, the animals, and the natives—the Scarecrows. The native creatures didn’t come into the desert. She didn’t have much to worry about out here but the sun. And men. But once she reached the mountains, then she’d need to be careful. Either she’d die out there, or she’d become the woman she’d always wanted to be.
With one last glance at Chief Payne, she said a prayer for his safe-keeping and headed out into the Black Desert.
Chapter 8
Randolph Parnell paced the length of the arrivals gate at Asteria spaceport.
This wasn’t good. This was not good at all. All his grand plans to continue Alfred’s dream were unraveling. Back on Earth, forty-six percent of his strongholds had been commandeered by the rebels. In some areas of the world, his own men had turned on him, switching sides and joining the rebel forces.
He needed Prudence. But Genesis V had yet to arrive. They’d lost contact a little over an hour before Genesis V’s scheduled landing. He glanced at Bronsen, who was speaking to spaceport security. Their words were low and urgent, their faces drawn into serious masks, making anxiety claw at Randolph’s insides. Bronsen said he’d take care of everything. He already had men searching. If Prudence survived, they’d find her.
Whatever this was, whatever had happened, it must be because of Chief Payne. The man was a walking disaster. He should’ve killed Payne while he had the chance, but he hadn’t wanted to tarnish the sterling reputation Alfred had created for the U.N. Chief Payne wouldn’t be so lucky when their paths crossed again.
Bronsen turned and strode over to Randolph, putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him off to one side where they wouldn’t be heard by the others. “The ship is dead in space. There was a fire, which gutted most of the craft before the flames broke through the external bulkhead and the vacuum of space extinguished the fire. Fifteen escape pods were ejected. They landed all over Asteria’s Southern Hemisphere. It’ll take some time to determine who landed where.”
Randolph pressed his fingers to his eyes to stop the rapid-fire blinking. That particular tic was driving him insane. “What’s the likelihood Prudence is on one?”
“Pretty good, actually.”
Thank God. As long as she lived, he still had hope.
“Both her and her roommate’s life-chambers opened prior to the craft losing power. The escape pod outside their room did eject. There’s an excellent probability they were on board.”
“Can’t we track their pod?”
Bronsen frowned. “Had the ship still been intact, yes. But we lost the beacon tracking device when Genesis V’s AI systems shut down. All we have to go on is the demographic feeds sent prior to the system crash.”
“Damn it.” Anything could happen to her out there. And then what? How would he convince the people of Earth they needed him, that they wanted Utopia, that the rebels were all criminals? “What about the roommate? Anyone we know?” Hopefully someone who could get her to civilization safely.
Bronsen grimaced.
“Well, who is she with?”
“Chief Payne.”
Randolph cursed and pushed away from Bronsen, his eyes blinked so hard, so fast they were starting to water. “It’s him.”
“Jesus.” Bronsen pulled him back, glancing around before pinning Randolph with his gaze. “Quietly.”
“Some—” Bronsen squeezed his fingers and Randolph lowered his tone. “Somehow, all of this is because of him.” He pressed the heel of his free hand to his eye, willing his lid to stop with the infernal twitching. “How the hell does he know Prudence? Has she been fucking him this whole time? Is that how he got the rebels to fight for him?”
Bronsen shushed him. “Don’t let anyone see you upset. Breathe, baby. I have no idea, but my best guess is that all of this is coincidence.”
“Bullshit.”
“We had him in our custody during the trial, Randy. Prudence never got near him. She couldn’t.” His frown deepened. “Why are you acting like a jealous lover?”
Bronsen didn’t understand. Chief Payne had gotten his intelligence from somewhere. From someone. And where did Prudence get the idea to board Genesis V? And the money? She was far too meek to come up with such a scheme on her own. The bastard killed his brother and now evidence pointed to Prudence helping with the assassination. “I’m not jealous, I’m pissed as hell and I want to know if she conspired with Payne to assassinate Alfred.”
Bronsen’s eyes widened, his expression suggesting he’d never considered the possibility.
“I’ll be damned if that bitch makes me out for a fool. If she had anything to do with this Rebel uprising, anything to do with Alfred’s death—” He swung around, not wanting anyone to see the emotion choking him. How could she? After all the time and energy they’d spent bringing her into the height of society? She was an orphan, a base-born, and an alien. She should be thankful they paid her any attention at all.
Bronsen forced him to stop his pacing and cupped his face in his hands. “We’re going to get them both. And when we do, Prudence can watch while we show her what we do to traitors. We’ll make Payne talk and if she had anything to do with Alfred’s death, she’ll wish she was dead.”
Chapter 9
He was going to kill her, if she wasn’t dead already.
Griffin kicked the used med-wand, shattering it against the rock outcropping. Blasted woman. What the hell had she been thinking to waste the damn thing for this? For him?
The desert night offered no answers, just a deep, dark, unsettling stillness. There was no moon to light the sky. Even the stars seemed dimmer here than on Earth.
Damn. He didn’t even know what to expect out there. His plan had been to research Asteria from the comfort of prison. Yeah, right. If he hadn’t been in court, he’d been being tortured. Questioned. The months he’d spent in that prison were a blur of pain and disillusionment. If he’d been sk
eptical of people before, now he was goddamned cynical.
Griffin ran his hand down his face. His perfect, healed face. Not even his tongue ached anymore. Part of him was grateful, but mostly he was pissed. His had not been a life-threatening injury and med-wands were not exactly abundant out here. What would she do if she got injured?
He walked back to the dim outline of the rocks and found his pack. Praise Jesus, at least she wasn’t a thief.
It’s back to two for two, buddy. You saved her twice, she saved you twice.
Even. He didn’t like even. He’d much rather have her in his debt. He dug through the pack he’d stolen until he came across his weapon. He stuck the Lockheed Martin in his pants at the small of his back. Then he dug some more until he found the night vision glasses. He slipped them on and the desert lit up a bright lavender.
Like her eyes.
To hell with her eyes.
Why are you planning to go after her, then?
Was he? He wasn’t even sure which way she went. Away from that outpost, no doubt, but that left three directions. She didn’t give him the sense she was lost. It had taken him almost two hours to catch up to her yesterday and in all that time she’d headed in a straight line.
But she’s alone. Down one med-wand.
His damned conscience was going to drive him stark-raving batshit. He scanned the desert floor until he found the grooves of her footprints in the black sand. “Gotcha.”
She must have some clue where she was headed as determined as she was.
He walked out into the desert night with confident strides, secure in his belief she couldn’t have gone too far. But as the night wore on and the horizon lit with dawn, he began to wonder how long he’d slept. Aside from an occasional footprint, he saw no sign of her—or anyone else. The desert was barren, the wind shuffling the sand the sole sound. He saw no birds, no reptiles, no people. He was alone. The thought brought him up short, unsettling him. How long could they survive out here in the baking sun with no other life to support them? There were no animals to hunt. No plants to eat. No water. The challenge of continuing to cross the desert became daunting, indeed. So much so, that like any sane man, he considered going back.
But if all this made him nervous, what must the woman be feeling? She must be terrified. If he could find her, she would no doubt be grateful and gladly tell him anything he wanted to know.
Griffin pressed on, sometimes jogging, but mostly walking, conserving his energy. He’d wait until tonight to drink one of the boxed waters. In the cool darkness his body would be able to retain the liquid for a while.
By the time he caught up with her, it was almost dusk and he heard her long before he saw her. She’d made it clear across the desert flats and into what he’d begun to think of as enemy territory. She was damned brave. Or crazy as a feline snorting catnip.
From a distance, with the desert heat wafting up from the sand and making objects in the distance seem to move, he thought he’d seen people walking ahead of him. They were rocks. The haphazard black outcroppings jutted up in strange, thin octagonal shapes resembling large crystals except they held no beauty. They did, however, carry an echo: When she screamed, the sound bounced off the rocks, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Griffin pulled his sidearm and froze, listening for any other sound. There was a shuffling and a thud. Softer, the sound didn’t echo as much and he zeroed in on her location, setting off at a sprint. When she screamed a second time, his heart leapt in his chest.
Christ. Had she run into more locals? Wild animals? He barreled past the rocks, dodging this way and that. He was closer. He could hear her sobbing. Moaning. Adrenaline surged through him as the urge to kill, to protect or die trying, swelled through him. Griffin ran past one last stand of stone and came to an abrupt halt.
She was sprawled on the ground with something pinned beneath her legs, pounding the living hell out of it with a rock. “Die, damn you.” Crying in earnest, her swings grew weaker by the second and the moaning creature didn’t seem willing to go down without a fight.
Was that a scarecrow? He strode over, aimed and fired a laser in its brain. At least he hoped that’s what he hit—both ends of the creature looked remarkably similar.
Prudence skittered backward over the hot sand. He might say she cowered, but her chin still jutted out mutinously. She appeared ready to fight, but unsure of how to proceed.
“What the hell is it?” He waved the gun toward the creature.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Dinner.”
“Dinner? I thought you were—” He paced away, clicked on the safety and shoved his weapon under his belt. Christ, when he heard her scream . . . . He’d never experience a terror so acute. “I thought you—” No. There was no way in hell he’d admit he had been worried. Terrified, actually, that the single living person he knew out here was dying and, once again, that he’d been left to survive alone. Christ, he didn’t even know her. He strode across the space separating them.
The woman got to her feet, edging away. Not this time. She wasn’t going anywhere. He hauled her up against him. Every inch of her compact frame pressed tight to his, causing his mind to scatter and his anatomy to focus. What the hell had he wanted to say?
She tried to jerk away. “What are you doing? Why’re you even here?”
Oh, that’s right. He narrowed his gaze and gave her his meanest scowl. “The next time I hear you scream, if you are not in true jeopardy, you will be when I find you.”
“I thought I was alone.” She tried to push away.
He shifted his hand until he cupped her ass, pressing her close and she froze, those lavender eyes widening. “Lady, you never assume you are alone. Survival 101: There is always someone bigger, stronger, faster, or smarter than you watching.”
She lifted her chin, but her bottom lip trembled. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a truth.” Feeling his body start to shift to life, he released her abruptly. “Why were you crying? Are you hurt? Did it bite you?”
She shook her head. Her gaze shifted to the creature and her eyes filled with tears again.
Good God, she was as leaky as a broken faucet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I never had to kill anything before, okay?” She sniffed. “I didn’t— I have no food.”
Rage flared inside him. He paced away, unable to look at her. She didn’t belong here. She was sophisticated, a society miss, and there was something intrinsically innocent about her. That she had thrown away a part of her innocence in order to fill her stomach infuriated him. And the fact that she’d proven to be strong enough to do the deed made him admire her. He didn’t want to like anything about her. He couldn’t decide which part of this whole scene pissed him off worse.
“Jesus. What are you doing here, lady?” He waved his arm to encompass the alien world around them.
“I—I wanted to be a pioneer.”
Her voice was small, hushed, but even if she’d shouted, he still wouldn’t have thought he’d heard her correctly. “A pioneer?”
Unable to meet his gaze, she nodded.
Oh, he couldn’t believe this shit. “A pioneer. What the fuck do you think pioneers do? You think they walk off the ship and stroll up to the local McDonalds? Have a nice, piping-hot droid-made meal? There is no civilization on Asteria, lady. You want to eat, kill something. You want to survive, be prepared to defend yourself.” He turned away from her hurt expression and motioned toward her kill. “Let’s get it cooked.” With a glance around, he realized there was nothing they could use for fuel—unless she was carrying something to cook with. Had she put herself through the hell of killing for the first time and not have a way to cook it? He stared at her, eyes narrowing. No, she was smarter than that. “Were you planning to eat it raw?”
She didn’t respond, but the way her grip tightened on her pack told him everything he needed to know.
H
e’d underestimated her. Again. Back on Genesis V, when he’d lifted her bag he thought she’d packed the thing full of fripperies—make-up and clothes, maybe a few dozen pairs of shoes. When he opened it and pulled out those two sweaters, he hadn’t seen anything to make him think otherwise, but now . . . . “What’s in your pack?”
“My stuff.”
He shrugged off his pack and sat down cross-legged in the hot sand next to her kill. He reached in and pulled out one of his apples.
She turned her nose up.
Christ. He took out the salt shaker.
This time, her gaze lingered on his offerings briefly, but in the end, her eyes shifted away and her grip tightened on her bag.
What the hell did she have in there?
Obviously more than him and suddenly, with great urgency he wanted to know what it was. With a heavy sigh, he reached in his bag and pulled out one of his boxes of water. He held it up, then set it next to his other offerings.
The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
Ah, yes, I’ve got you now, my pretty. “Come on. I’ll share, if you share.”
She wiped at her face with the back of one dust-covered arm, dragging her eyes from his offerings to look at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’ve got a Lockheed Martin, lady. If I wanted to make a tactical acquisition I could’ve killed you and already been halfway to my meal.”
Her face twisted in indecision.
She would share, damn it. “What’s your name?”
“Pr—” She coughed and lowered her thick, black lashes. “Angelica.”
Prudence. He remembered, now. “Liar.”
“Chief Payne, I am not a liar. I—”
“I could give a shit less why you’re lying. What’s it going to be, Angel?”
She stomped over and plopped down on the other side of her kill. “I caught it; you skin it.”
The Last Marine Page 6
