by Susan Grant
Kyber grunted. “Touch them and I will slit your throat.” Good cop, bad cop—the routine he used with Nikolai often worked well.
The gatekeeper’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His gaze flicked from Kyber’s unhappy expression to the weapons he wore, the armor and rugged riding boots. “We do not steal horses here, Rim Rider.”
“What do you steal, then?”
“We—”
Kyber thrust his arm out and snatched the gatekeeper’s collar. “You are innocent, you say?”
He sputtered, clawing at Kyber’s leather glove.
Nikolai stepped to Kyber’s side. “Perhaps he knows nothing, Kublai.”
Kyber pretended to let his temper flare. It was easy to do; he was furious that these borderland people would choose to consort with rebels rather than support an empire that had performed countless benevolent acts in the region. Their duplicity and brazen disregard of national security left a red haze of anger over Kyber’s vision. “Is this true? Have you nothing here that doesn’t belong to you? Is there no one amongst you who must lawfully be reported to your magnificent and generous emperor who loves you?”
At that, Nikolai made a small sound in his throat.
The gatekeeper’s face had gone from pink to purple. “I have done nothing,” he choked out.
Kyber smiled thinly and set him down. “We shall see, gatekeeper.”
“Let us partake of the pleasures of the spring first,” his security chief suggested. “We have had a long many days of riding. We have been out on patrol for many weeks.” In truth, they’d traveled by magcar three-quarters of the way from Beijing, circumventing the Gobi Desert and leaving the vehicles in a secret location at the border of the forests for the few days it would take to complete this round-trip. A full journey on horseback would have taken weeks, a luxury neither man could afford. If not for the nature of this particular task, fetching the wayward pilot, Kyber would not have abandoned his duties at all.
“Come this way, please.” Robes filling his arms, the gatekeeper led them toward the shrine.
Kyber frowned. “We said the springs.”
“Ah, but you must purge your sins first, Rim Rider. It is what we require of all pilgrims before they take their pleasure in God’s water.” It was a delaying tactic; Scarlet wasn’t anywhere near the shrine or the gatekeeper would not have brought them there.
“In that case, a quick prayer.” It was a small peacemaking effort, and nothing more, to acknowledge local custom. As much as he wanted to strangle the man for his disobedience to the realm in sheltering a woman he should have reported to his district overseer, so too was Kyber reluctant to start rumors of abuse traceable back to himself.
Offerings, old and new, littered the ground near the entrance to a large round tent constructed of thick hides lashed together with yak sinew. Kyber and Nikolai’s smiling guide waved them forward. “Please. Go inside.”
Nikolai’s hand moved out, slightly, his fingers spread. A signal to hang back, to be cautious. The back of Kyber’s neck prickled.
Kyber’s own hand slid over his pistol. For the first time he felt the danger of the situation, of moving freely out of reach of his enviable security forces. You have no heirs. To whom would the crown pass if you died this day?
D’ekkar. Kyber almost snorted. No one outside the royal family and its closest advisers knew that it was fact, not a rumor, that D’ekkar Han Valoren wasn’t the emperor’s blood son. Since Kyber had no heirs, his half brother, the bastard son his mother bore her lover, was technically in line for the throne. The thought of Deck ruling in his place was enough to keep Kyber alive through anything the troublemakers here might throw at him.
Nikolai moved aside the tent flap. The odor of incense rushed out. Kyber had only to inhale once before his body reacted: dizziness, then lingering, distinctly agreeable buoyancy. It would take only another few breaths for him to want to lie down and lose himself all day in the sensation.
He jerked backward, pulling his chief with him, and whirled on the gatekeeper. The man cowered. This time he wasn’t sorry for intimidating him. “The incense is drugged!”
“It is only mildly hallucinogenic.”
“Mildly, my ass. It nearly took my wits with the first breath!”
“It will heighten your pleasure.”
“When I want to take my pleasure, I do so with women—not narcotics!”
Nikolai’s eyes were a bit glazed, but his manner was as crisp and efficient as ever. “Do you wish us harm, good neighbor? Do you not respect the emperor to whom we owe our allegiance?”
“No! No harm. None at all. I sought only to bring you closer to God.”
“More like closer to unconsciousness,” Kyber muttered as his head cleared. “It would seem as if you are hiding something—or someone.”
“Please. Only my family and I live here.”
“No one else?” Nikolai asked as Kyber flexed his gloved hands, cracking his knuckles.
The gatekeeper’s mouth worked nervously. “People, they come and go in these lands. Lost souls. You know how it is.”
“Female. Tall, slender, blond,” Nikolai went on. “With an odd accent.”
“And pretty. A pretty woman.” Kyber punched a fist into his palm, and the gatekeeper jumped. “Would you know of anyone fitting that description?”
Nikolai made a soft clicking sound of warning at the same time a flash of brightly colored clothing caught Kyber’s eye. On the road leading to the springs, a lone figure hurried along, her gait uneven. She had a blanket thrown over her head.
Kyber’s pulse jumped. Scarlet. He was sure of it. “Who is that?” he bellowed.
The gatekeeper’s words tumbled out. “My daughter . . . she brought home a friend. She was ill—ill for many weeks, this one, but she’s a hard worker. She didn’t do anything. We didn’t . . . I swear—”
Nikolai grabbed for his weapon. “You there—halt!”
Another woman, this one smaller, had unhitched the horses. She slapped them hard and sent them galloping away before she herself ran off, braids streaming behind her.
“Horse thief!” the gatekeeper yelped. “You must go after your steeds.”
“That was no horse thief; it was a well-timed distraction.” Kyber drew his neuron fryer and aimed it at the gatekeeper. “And the oldest trick in the book.” He fired.
The man crumpled and fell.
“You won’t remember anything of this. Trust me.” Hastily, he shoved the cooling weapon back in his pocket. “You take care of our friend, Niko, and I’ll go after the woman.”
As the chief dragged the body into the temple to leave it “napping” on one of the pews, Kyber ran down the hill leading to the springs. Stay put, my little American. I’ll soon be joining you.
He stopped at the shore. Steam rose in billowing puffs from the water. The faint scent of sulfur floated in the air. He unbuckled his weapons belt and peered at the craggy outcroppings of rocks for a sign of the woman. She was nowhere.
A feeling he didn’t like slithered down his back. Where did she go? Would he lose her, too, and feel once more the humiliation of defeat? He stripped off the heavier pieces of his body armor and his shirt, then discarded his boots. He took out his breather, wedging the device between his teeth. It would allow him all the time he needed to search the springs
Chapter Nine
They’re coming for you! Zhurihe’s warning clanged like a fire alarm in Cam’s head. Tell no one who you are. You don’t want the emperor to learn of you.
Hidden behind a couple of boulders and a shifting wall of steam, she watched the bigger of the two Rim Riders strip down to his tight black pants. Hollywood had made a cliché of depraved tyrants who kept legions of muscular, badass minions on the payroll. Cam was not happy to see it was true. Dark swirls of tattoo covered more than half his face, but his body was clean of any ornamentation aside from an impressive set of abs. This man knew how to fight; his musculature told her that. And maybe he wasn’t quite as stupid a
s she’d thought. Zhurihe’s little horse-stealing stunt hadn’t fooled him.
The only thing worse than a brute was a smart brute. She had the feeling this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Show yourself!” His baritone carried over the water. When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “Don’t fear me. You’ve been held here illegally. I have come to rescue you.”
Rescue her? It was the last thing she’d expected to hear.
The Rider tipped his head and listened to the silence that was her response. Then he tried again. “No tricks, I promise you.” His voice had lost its edge.
She ducked down lower in the water, waiting to see what he’d do. “Ah, why do you make me come after you?” he asked almost tiredly. Then with the barest of splashes the man dove into the springs. For a big man, he had a lot of grace.
Hot water licked at her chin. Hefting a rock in her hand, she waited. The healing springs had stolen her aches and pains, and without gravity sabotaging her muscles and bones, she felt agile and light. And ready. No wonder Zhurihe had sent her here: the water evened the odds.
She wasn’t as sure anymore if he meant her harm or not. Until she knew for sure, she wanted to keep him at a distance.
This needed to be a hit-and-run, then.
Summers spent swimming with her brothers in an assortment of swimming holes had taught her a thing or two. You were least prepared when you surfaced for a breath. When the Rim Rider did, that was when she’d act. Conk him on the head with the rock and make a mad dash to shore. In the forest she knew of a hundred places to hide. She’d be slower on land, more clumsy, but if all went as planned, she’d have one hell of a head start.
She waited where her legs could find purchase and give her leverage to strike. Only the Rim Rider didn’t pop up for air. Wind rippled the billowing steam. A few birds warbled. Where was he? What the hell had happened to him?
She blinked mist out of her eyes. If he’d surfaced, she’d have seen it. It meant he was still under the water. After all this time? What was he . . . superhuman? No one could hold his breath for this long.
There! A shadow moved under the water. Long and dark, it glided beneath the surface. Cam almost swallowed her heart.
Powerful arms propelled the bounty hunter through the water as easily as a fish. As he stopped to search the boulders along the rim of the pool, his long black hair fanned out, undulating with his movements. He pushed off again, his stomach flexing. A set of six-pack abs warned her that he’d be no easy man to escape. All the more reason to cork him on the first try. A head start was going to be very important in this match.
She readied her rock for striking. Closer, sugar, come a little closer to me. The second his head came above water, she’d whack it like a coconut and run like hell.
If his head came above water. What was that in his mouth? It looked like a thin harmonica except for the fizzy stream of bubbles exploding from it in regular intervals, the approximate space of time between breaths in a normal human being. He was breathing—underwater, and without bulky scuba gear!
Now, that wasn’t fightin’ fair. With his ability to stay underwater indefinitely, she’d have to alter tactics. Instead of surprising him as he surfaced, which, of course, he wouldn’t, she’d wait until he swam to the other side of the springs; then she’d scramble to shore.
Cam focused intently on her target. She considered herself expert at anticipating an adversary’s reaction. It was why she’d won nearly every air-to-air battle she’d ever flown. Could a water-to-water battle be that much different?
With a hearty inhalation and a prayer, she pushed quietly out of her hiding place and launched herself through deeper water to an outcropping of boulders, a good intermediate hiding spot from which she could reach the beach.
One . . . two . . . three . . . four strokes underwater, followed by a long, silent glide, she surfaced inside the ring of boulders. Mistake. Here the angle of the sun made it difficult to see more than a couple of feet below the surface. She was trapped. If she struck out for shore, she’d be doing it blind. Where did the Rider go?
Adrenaline zipped though her veins, pumping up her heart rate. He was coming for her; she knew it on a gut level. Almost as if she’d conjured him, the Rider exploded out of the water with a loud splash and grabbed her by the wrists.
Cam used his hold on her as a brace. She thrust her knee upward, making solid, satisfying contact with wet pants.
A muffled grunt. His grip relaxed—to his credit, it was for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. She yanked one dripping-wet wrist free, arched sideways, and tore the mouthpiece from the startled Rider’s mouth.
She clamped her lips around the breathing device. “Fair’s fair,” she mumbled.
A heartbeat later she was swimming through the depths of the spring for all she was worth. Her lips formed a seal around the harmonica-shaped gadget just as lightheadedness set in. This had better work. She sucked in a breath—of air, not water. She was breathing! With no air tanks. No gear. She had no clue how the thing worked in a world that was supposedly devoid of technology, but there was no time to wonder about it now. She’d head for the far shore, jump onto dry land, and run like—
Something yanked her backward. The mouthpiece popped loose. She made a bubbly, underwater sound of dismay, her hair floating around her face, and shoved the breathing device back between her teeth. Twisting, she saw the problem.
Her eyes widened. The device was connected to the bounty hunter by an almost invisible cord. And as fast as his arms could propel him, he was swimming through the water after it—and her.
Options . . . she needed them now. Tug-of-war was out. She could drop the mouthpiece and run. Or . . . she could tangle the rope around the hulk of a submerged tree stump rising out of the sandy bottom to buy time enough for a head start.
Her insides screamed to hurry. She wrapped the slack in the cord around the massive roots, two, three times—and a couple more for good measure. Then, wedging one end of the breather under a root, she snapped the fragile device in half and shoved away.
The Rim Rider swam after her—only to be jerked to a halt. He saw then what she’d done, how the rope was knotted and tangled around the gnarled wood. A hiss of bubbles swirled around him as he fought to free himself. Jerky movements further revealed his shock.
You underestimated me. Big mistake.
Cam burst to the surface, treading water. The man’s companion wasn’t anywhere she could see. She stroked to the shore. No more grace. No more speed. On dry land she moved like an arthritic elephant.
How much of a head start did she have on the Rim Rider? The water steamed quietly. No sign of him yet.
She stumbled over the boulders bordering the shore. Once she was outside in wet clothes, it didn’t take long to start shivering. If she was going to hide, she’d better do it somewhere warm and dry—and fast.
Lose the Rim Rider first, she thought. Had he made it to the beach yet? She turned around. He hadn’t even made it to the surface.
Lord Almighty. Was he still tangled in the rope? Serves him right. The surface of the water was unblemished. Calm.
Don’t fear me. The memory of his attempted dialogue came with a flicker of self-reproach. Tying him up had been impulsive, spurred by battle lust and, yes, sheer competition. You’ve been held here illegally. I have come to rescue you! No tricks.
In retrospect, the Rider had acted more like a cop on the beat that the evil minion Zhurihe said he’d be. Cam thought of the breather and the aircraft. Zhurihe had told her there was no tech left in this nuclear war–ravaged world. What if she’d lied?
What if she’d lied about the Rim Riders, too?
What if the Rider was right and these farmers were the kidnappers?
What if the idiot was drowning?
Cam made a loud groan and reversed course, swearing under her breath the entire way back to the springs. She slipped and slid in her wa
terlogged shoes, shoving branches and evergreen vegetation out of her path. Okay, if the hulk was already unconscious, all she’d have to do was cut him loose and shove his carcass to the surface.
CPR? Don’t even go there. If her luck held, he’d start breathing on his own once she draped him over the closest rock.
She dove into the hot depths, swimming down, down, down, until she reached the ancient mangle of the stump. Simple: cut him loose and run.
There was the cord. She grabbed it. Attached to the other end was an undulating banner of black fabric. The Rider’s pants!
Bubbles gurgled out of her mouth. He was gone! He’d cut himself free like a wolf that gnawed off a paw to escape a trap.
She spun around, her hair swirling across her eyes. Looked up. Looked down. He was nowhere. And she was running out of air.
Up to the surface she went. As if competing for Olympic gold, she stroked away from the center of the springs, pushing her body to the limit in her half-panicked haste to get away. He hadn’t underestimated her—she’d underestimated him! She’d made the same miscalculation that others had about her all her life. And now it was painfully obvious she was about to pay for her mistake.
Water sprayed over her face as something lunged at her. Blindly she struck out with a fist and made contact with something wet and very solid. Thick arms closed around her waist, forcing her half out of the water. The Rim Rider.
They wrestled, splashing violently. He had the advantage of size. From behind, he hauled her close. It was then she remembered a very important fact: he was buck naked.
Her elbows drove backward into his ribs. This time, however, he had the advantage of surprise. Powerful legs kept them both afloat as he bent her right arm behind her until he’d drawn out a shuddering swear word.
Rim Riders were bounty hunters for the warlord emperor. By definition, bounty hunters turned in fugitives for pay. If they planned on delivering her to the emperor for payment, it meant they probably wouldn’t kill her. On the other hand, far from anyone’s scrutiny in the wilderness, these men could do a lot of things between now and their delivery date. “Try anything with me, and I’ll fight you,” she gurgled, water sloshing over her mouth. “I’ll fight you until all you’ve got left to play with is a body that’s not worth the effort.”
