The Tracker

by Leslie Georgeson

  It wasn’t long before he was back. He made a soft, hissing sound as he closed the door behind him. I’d heard that hissing sound a couple of times before. I turned to study him more closely. He was injured somehow. If I were to venture a guess, I’d say it was either a foot or a leg injury.

  Had he been teasing when he’d said he was loco? Or had he also suffered some kind of psychological trauma that had messed him up in the head? He didn’t really seem insane.

  He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. “Our deal was that I would find your sister if you do what I say, when I say to do it. That wasn’t debatable. If I decide to hand you over to The Gardener when I’m finished with you, you’ll go quietly and do what he says.”

  The Gardener? That big redheaded guy was a gardener? I lifted my chin and held Tracker’s silver gaze. “I’m not a whore to be passed around.” That was my mother’s title and I swore I’d never be like her. It was because of what I’d witnessed men doing to her that I was afraid of men. I drew in a deep breath and rushed on, “I made a deal with you, and you alone. If you force me to sleep with you, I’ll do it, but only because I have to, for my sister. But I will not sleep with that man!”

  His gaze hardened as it bored into mine. “If I order you to sleep with all the dregs, you’ll damn well do it.”

  Fear slithered in, sinking deep. Was he serious? I would fight tooth and nail to avoid the beds of all the dregs. “No. I won’t!”

  Something flashed in his eyes, something dangerous that made my heart give a terrified thump in my chest. “Are you refusing an order, slave?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. I won’t do it. I can’t.” I lowered my voice. “Please. I’m not…that experienced.” Embarrassed heat swept into my cheeks. I lowered my gaze, fearing his response. Would he drag me into his room and force himself on me now?

  He let out a deep sigh. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Fine. Go finish the laundry. The Gardener promised to leave you alone. Now that he knows you’re mine, he’ll back off.”

  Now that he knows you’re mine.

  I shivered involuntarily. I was his now. Until he found Eliza. Or until he decided he was done with me. Right now, I was just a cook and a maid, a cleaning lady. But tomorrow, or the next day, he might decide to make me something more. As I stared at his harsh face, looked into his silver eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder: would that be so horrible? He hadn’t hurt me in any way. Not to mention he had a smoking hot body, all those sinewy muscles that drew a woman’s eye and made her want to stare for a very long time. Made me want to ogle every inch of him. Made me want to touch. The very idea of that hard, masculine body pressing into mine made heat shoot straight to my core. I flushed. No man had ever brought about the lustful longings in me that this man did. Then again, I’d never been around a man who was so overwhelmingly masculine before.

  He waved at the door. “Go now. I need some quiet time to read. Don’t come back until the laundry’s done.”

  I rushed toward the door, hurrying past him. If he wanted quiet time, he could have it.

  I needed quiet time, too.

  Time to figure out exactly what it was that I was starting to feel for this insane, frightening man I’d foolishly struck a deal with.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tracker

  I’d lost my fucking mind. Had I seriously struck a deal with that woman? I had no business agreeing to help her. I wasn’t even sure which one of us would get the better end of the deal.

  I paced across my tiny living room, doing my best to ignore the pain in my thigh.

  Our dreg nicknames summed up our biggest talent—tracking, in my case. I always paid attention to detail, picking up any hint of a trail, any disturbance in the ground, the dirt, the rocks, the pine needles, the snow, the fallen leaves…I could track the enemy—or my target—anywhere through the forest, the desert, the jungle, the arctic, through any area not heavily traveled or destroyed by others. But tracking someone through a city overrun by gang violence, with spoilage around every turn, danger around every corner, was too much overload of the mind and senses. It was difficult to try to locate and follow a trail with all the distractions around me. I hated the city. This was a new experience for me. So far the only thing I’d been able to do was be a detective, asking questions and searching for a lead.

  Once I got a lead, things would change. Once I got a visual on my target, nothing got in the way. It was at that point I would center myself, stand quietly, and let my senses guide me. I became a missile, locking on its mark, veering in to take it down. I don’t know if it was a psychic ability or something else, but once I had a visual, the target’s present location (if living) or last location (if deceased) would generally flash through my mind, and that would help guide me to the target. That was why I always requested a photograph of my target. Without one, it was extremely difficult to track someone. So this mission would be different than my past missions. This time, I had no photograph, just the words of her sister to help guide me.

  I paused in my pacing. I couldn’t deny I was intrigued by my slave. She was certainly nothing like any woman I’d met before. I had honestly expected her to walk away after I’d informed her what I wanted from her. In fact, I had tried to scare her off, but it hadn’t worked.

  I had no idea where her sister was. Not even a clue at this point. I’d tried using my slave’s image as a visual, but had gotten nothing from it. Chances were that if the girl had been kidnapped by a gang, then finding her would be difficult, and freeing her next to impossible.

  I paced forward again, spun around when I reached the bookcase, and paced back. Right now, I was coming out on top of our deal. I now had a cook and cleaning lady. But I was a man of my word. I was determined to honor my end of the deal. I’d gone into Augusta under cover of darkness and put out some feelers. Now—hopefully—I just had to wait for something to come back to me. It was only a matter of time before someone talked. Right? And then I’d take up the trail. Track the girl’s whereabouts. Through the damn city, whether I liked it or not. I would have to treat this like any other mission. I hadn’t lied to my slave. I would find her sister. Dead or alive. It just might take me longer than normal.

  I sighed and paused in my pacing once again. Now that my slave was clean of the dirt and grime that had coated her slim body, it was easy to see how pretty she was. She looked younger than twenty-five, an image of innocence and purity with her fair, fresh skin and that sprinkling of freckles across her cute nose.

  The complete opposite of me. I was the farthest thing from innocent. If she stayed around me too long, I would do nothing but corrupt her.

  I groaned and made my way back to my chair and snatched up The Assassin. I read the same paragraph three times before I gave up and slammed the book on the end table.

  I couldn’t get the woman—my slave—out of my head.

  I let out a soft laugh.

  Slave. I had a slave now. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I’d been a prisoner of war, a prisoner of my own “employer”. I knew what it was like to be a slave.

  But I’d never had my own slave before.

  She had big, expressive hazel eyes that changed color with her moods. I’d been fascinated, unable to look away as her eyes changed from a neutral green-blue to an angry gold-green blaze, then to a subdued light greenish hue. What color would her eyes be if I buried myself deep inside her and made her scream in ecstasy?

  Don’t go there. She’s too good for the likes of you.

  I let out a soft growl. It didn’t stop me from wanting.

  I sighed. Didn’t she know I was dangerous? Loco? I couldn’t be trusted around her. I could all too easily kill her by accident. But I had a soft spot for females, especially innocent children, and her sixteen-year-old sister had been kidnapped. I couldn’t allow the perpetrator to go unpunished if I could help it. I would find her sister. And then I’d send the irritating woman on her way.

  I just had to keep her at ar
m’s length long enough to get rid of her.

  A loud knock came at my door. I leapt up from my chair. Now what? I wasn’t going to get any reading done today even if I wanted to. Way too many distractions.

  I made my way across the room, not bothering to hide my limp now that I was alone. I hadn’t wanted my slave to see my weakness, so I’d hidden my injury from her as best as I could. I think she suspected, though. I hadn’t been able to hold back a hiss of pain as I’d entered the apartment earlier. Sometimes my leg did that. Other times it was fine. Tonight, for some reason, it was giving me a lot of grief.

  I yanked the door open. Gordon aka The Gardener stood there with a grin on his face. He and I were partners, having been paired early on after our “recruitment” into The Company. My earliest memories started with him. Gordon had been my best friend from the moment I’d been recruited. He was a tough bastard, big and mean, but loyal to a fault. I could trust him with my life. We’d both been recruited the same year, him a few months before me. I’d been twelve. He’d been sixteen.

  “What do you want?” I turned away with a snarl.

  Each dreg was paired with another soldier before heading out into the field, much like in law enforcement where cops always had a partner. We underwent years of rigorous training and when we were paired with a partner, our strengths and weaknesses had to be compatible with our partners. One had to offset the other. If one of us was afraid of water, the other loved to swim. If one of us was terrified of heights, the other loved to climb. We emboldened each other, encouraged each other. I was grateful The Company had chosen Gordon as my partner, as the two of us had gotten along from the very start. We were loyal to our partners, always looked out for each other. Even after discharge. Though I trusted all the dregs, Gordon was by far the best friend I’d ever had.

  He followed me, closing the door behind him. “What’s with the woman? All you said was that she was yours and to back off. That’s not like you. What’s up?”

  I let out a snort. What was up? Good question. What the hell was I thinking, allowing her to stay here? Making her my slave?

  I shrugged, turning to face him. “She needed my help, and I couldn’t tell her no.”

  His shaggy red brow shot up. “Her presence here compromises all of us. You know that.”

  I wasn’t sure who had started the rumors about us—our former employer, most likely—but most of what my slave had said was true. We were being hunted. We all had some kind of bounty on our heads. A lot of people wanted us dead. Which was why we hid down here underneath an old plantation home, haunted by evil spirits.

  Fortunately, not very many people knew of this place. And those who did, feared it, believing it was supernatural. The haunted mansion lured in a few brave teenagers every once in the while, but they never made it as far as the maze underneath, their terror sending them away almost as soon as they arrived. The spirits that haunted this place never bothered the dregs, perhaps because they sensed our souls were darker, more tortured than theirs. Why hadn’t the spirits frightened my slave away?

  She was either tougher than I thought and hadn’t let the ghosts frighten her, or she was as good inside as I believed she was. Possibly both. You couldn’t hide your true nature from a dead thing. They knew what lurked in your soul, whether it be good or bad. I’d sensed nothing but pure goodness in my slave. And strength. She wasn’t a weakling by any means.

  I dismissed Gordon’s worry. “She’s not a threat.”

  Gordon cocked a brow. “The beautiful ones are always a threat. Where’d you find her, anyway?”

  I hesitated, then admitted, “I didn’t find her. She came here looking for me. Tommy called me on the two-way and warned me she was asking about me and wondered what he should do. I told him it was okay to send her here.” Tommy was our unofficial sentry. A twelve-year-old kid who lived in Eatonton with an alcoholic mother who ignored him, the boy had been destined for a life of crime when we’d first caught him snooping around the old mansion not long after we’d moved in. He’d been ditching school and looking for entertainment in other ways. We’d scared the daylights out of him, then made a deal with him. If he stayed in school and kept his grades up, we’d reward him with a monthly allowance. We also took turns tutoring him when he needed help with his school work. In exchange, he warned us whenever someone was headed our way. His grades had come up over the past year and now that school was out for the summer, he had more time to watch for danger and notify us of any threats. “Her sister is missing. I agreed to help find her.”

  “No shit?” Gordon considered that for a moment. “She came here, all the way into the maze, and found you?”

  “Yep.”

  He shot me a disbelieving look. “No one finds you unless you want to be found.”

  I shrugged. True. But I’d lured her in, left my door ajar as an invitation. “As soon I heard her shuffling around through the maze, I knew she was harmless. I’ve never seen anyone get through the maze so quickly. She’s smart.”

  “Ahh.” He sniggered. “Smart and beautiful. If I saw her coming, I’d want to be found, too.”

  I ignored that. It was true she was an attractive woman, but she meant nothing to me. I was only helping her because I wanted to save her sister. An innocent child.

  “And you’re helping her find her sister?” Gordon persisted.

  “Yeah. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  He waggled his brows. “As dangerous as it is that she found you, I gotta say, that Jessica is a hottie. I’m jealous.”

  Jessica? That was my slave’s name? That was more information than I wanted. The less I knew about her, the better. And the less she knew about me, the better. I was a beast, plain and simple, not fit to even lick the dirt off her feet, but I would never let her know where I’d come from or the things I’d done. She didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to be corrupted by me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Once I find her sister, she’s gone. Don’t worry.”

  He chuckled. “Are you going to enjoy that hot little body while you’ve got her?”

  “No. She’s not a whore.”

  Gordon’s expression filled with incredulity. “Seriously? You sure you’re not gay?”

  The teasing glint in his eyes made me want to punch him. Not sure why I was being so protective of the woman, I scowled. “It’s none of your business.”

  His expression turned serious. “I don’t know how you managed to maintain some decency when the rest of us became monsters years ago, but I gotta say I admire you for it. Though I don’t understand why you’re not taking advantage of the situation and having her warm your bed. Are you crazy, man?” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Well, if you need my help, just let me know. She seems like a tough little thing. I wonder what her story is.” He grinned, winked, then sauntered away.

  I snorted and closed the door after him. Gordon was good at “planting the seed” and then “watching it grow”. That’s why he’d been dubbed The Gardener. That and his ability to grow anything in the plant kingdom. He was good at “planting the seed”. Damn him, he’d just planted one in my head.

  I wonder what her story is.

  “I don’t,” I muttered. I went back to my chair, my leg aching the entire way. I snatched up my book again and tried hard to get lost in the novel.

  But instead all I could think about was a thin girl with big hazel eyes that did something to the deadness inside me, pulled hard at my humanity, and made me want to care.

  Gordon was right that the woman’s presence here was dangerous for all of us. I needed to ensure her silence once she left, make sure she told no one about this place. Normally, that would mean killing her. But what was the purpose of trying to find her sister if all I did was kill her in the end?

  No. I wouldn’t kill her.

  I just wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her yet. Her innocence called to me, reminded me I was still human somewhere deep inside, and brought out a protectiveness in me I didn’t
know I had. I didn’t want any harm to come to her.

  I would find her sister, I vowed.

  But I wouldn’t do it because I was ordered to. Not this time.

  I would do it because I wanted to.

  I would do it for her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tracker

  An hour later, my slave still hadn’t come back to my apartment. The laundry had to be done by now. What was taking her so long? Most of the dregs would leave her alone if she ran into them, but a few of them might assume she was there to entertain them. If one of them cornered her somewhere, she would be hard pressed to get away on her own. I don’t think they would force her into anything, but one never knew. She was a pretty girl and some of the guys might think she was playing hard to get if she refused their advances.

  Maybe I should go investigate.

  I rose from my armchair, my leg aching with the strain of carrying my weight. My femur had been shattered by a bullet that had literally ripped my leg in half during our last mission. The surgeon had pieced me back together with steel rods, but the bone hadn’t healed properly and after three surgeries, the doctor had told me I’d never run again. Even with all the experimental drugs in my system that had given me physical abilities that far exceeded a normal human’s, my leg couldn’t be fixed. I would never be one hundred percent ever again. On good days, I could walk a ways. On bad days, I hobbled around like a cripple. Thus, my forced “retirement”.

  I reached my door and stepped out into the corridor. Voices caught my attention and I headed toward the laundry room where they came from. Shoving open the door, I strode inside, ignoring the pain in my thigh.

  My slave—Jessica—was standing next to the dryer, folding my laundry while two other dregs—Ryan, The Extractor, and Luke, The Enforcer—flirted with her. They stood on either side of her, seemingly hanging on her every word, while they moved closer, silently caging her in so she couldn’t escape. In her innocence, she had no idea these two wanted to eat her alive and that their intentions were not good. There was a reason Ryan had earned the nickname The Extractor. He was famous for seducing women and extracting information from them. He’d secured a lot of valuable information over the years from the women he’d seduced. He wasn’t a bad guy. He couldn’t help it if women swarmed around him like bees to fresh pollen. I just didn’t want him anywhere near my slave. Ryan and Luke were players. Team players. A more experienced woman could probably handle them. My slave was too innocent for the likes of these two. I needed to get her out of here before they corrupted her.