Night Resurrected Page 11

  And wait for Wyatt to catch up.

  If he did.

  Remy started toward the building. In the faulty light, she could see some metal lettering still clinging to the outside: ACKS ELEM SCH L.

  The nearest door was rusted closed, so instead of wasting time trying to open it, she knocked the remaining fragments of glass from the nearest window and hoisted Dantès up. It was a low window, and using the leverage of his paws on the edge, she was able to get him inside with little trouble. They were used to working together like this. Once he was inside, she gave him the command to stay.

  She paused, listening once more. Then, just as she was about to follow her pet inside, she saw the glint of moonlight on a familiar metal shape. A chill zipped down her spine and she gave Dantès the “quiet” command as she vaulted through the window. Once inside and safely in the dark room, she looked back out at the gleaming steel.

  A Humvee.

  The shape and size was unmistakable, and even the brief glance told her the vehicle wasn’t an old, rusted out truck. It looked as new and intact as the one she and Ian had driven around in.

  Ian.

  An uncomfortable feeling turned in the pit of her stomach, and she bit her lip. She couldn’t be more than five or six miles from the camp she’d shared with Wyatt—and where she’d found Ian’s old boots. Could the truck belong to Ian?

  Or did it belong to someone else, who might be lurking about . . . or sleeping in this very building? Remy reached automatically to the back of her jeans for her gun. It wasn’t there. As her belly dropped with a sickening thud, she realized she hadn’t been wearing it when Wyatt dragged her out of the truck. No. Oh, no.

  No weapon. No pack. Nothing. She had nothing.

  Nervous and unsettled, she glanced at Dantès. He seemed only calm and curious, watching her for a command, but clearly ready to explore their surroundings. His ease relaxed her a little and she released him so he could sniff around the area while she considered the situation.

  There was the possibility that the Humvee was abandoned. It happened more often than one might expect. That sparked a flare of excitement in her. She could get to Envy more safely and quickly if, miraculously, she could steal the truck. Even if its owner was sleeping in the building, she’d have the chance to drive it off. That would more than make up for not having her gun.

  Because of the way the bounty hunters and Strangers used the Humvees, many of the vehicles had no keys, or if they had them, the keys were left inside. Instead, there was a hidden compartment with a switch that started the truck so that any of them could utilize a vehicle as needed. This came in handy, she’d learned when traveling with the bounty hunters, in the case of quick getaways or if otherwise attacked. They didn’t want to be sharing or losing the keys to their escape.

  All of which meant that if she could get to the truck unseen, she could steal it.

  Now Remy had a different reason to listen and wait. But she’d been here for at least ten minutes and had heard no other human sounds. Seen no other movement—not even from Wyatt, who said he’d be right behind her.

  A prickle of unease slipped over her shoulders. What if he and Ian hadn’t made it away from the zombies? She slid her hand over the pocket of her jeans to feel the crystal—the lure that surely had drawn the mob of zombies to them, and would call them to come for her again as soon as the sun set tomorrow.

  Her heart stopped when she realized her pocket was empty.

  The crystal was gone.

  Chapter 9

  Remy frantically searched all her pockets, but the crystal was gone.

  Her heart thudding, nausea roiling up, threatening to choke her, she sagged against the wall. It was impossible for the crystal to have fallen from her pocket while she was running. The pocket was too deep.

  Which meant someone had taken it.

  Wyatt.

  It had to be him; he must have done it when he pulled her out of the truck, practically shoving her off into the woods. Ian hadn’t been close enough, and he didn’t even know she had the crystal until she showed it to the zombies. Had he?

  Remy closed her eyes. She’d trusted Wyatt. Why had she trusted him? How could she have been so stupid? Fury mingled with the sick feeling deep in her belly.

  Dantès butted his head against her hand as if to ask what was wrong. She wanted to tell him he’d been taken in by a thief and a liar, that the man he’d cheated on her with wasn’t worthy of his affection.

  She’d actually begun to soften toward him, especially after learning about his wife and children. And—hell, admit it—after that kiss. No wonder he told her it wasn’t going to happen again. He probably planned this all along. After all, he was the one who told her to find somewhere else to put the crystal.

  And she’d listened to him. She’d made a necklacelike belt so she could still wear the stone beneath her shirt, around her waist, while providing for easy removal if it began to burn again.

  But he gave it back to you.

  Twice.

  Remy shook her head. It didn’t make any sense. Why would he give it back if he really wanted to keep it? Even with her gun, she knew she’d be no match for him if he wanted to steal the crystal.

  But he hasn’t shown up yet. If he was really following you, he’d be here by now.

  She wanted to bang her head against the wall. She wanted to cry. For twenty years she’d protected that crystal, given up her life for it—and now it was gone. Now what? Should she go back and try to find him or keep going on to Envy? But should she go to Envy if his friends were there?

  At least the zombies will be after him now, not me.

  That was small comfort.

  She opened her eyes. The best option was the Humvee. She drew in a deep breath and, after warring with herself, commanded Dantès to sit and stay quietly. Then she climbed back out the window, still silent and wary. If she could get the vehicle, maybe she’d be able to backtrack and find Wyatt. The landmark of the tall signpost would help her find the old truck rig again, and it was beginning to get light in the east.

  A cyclone of thoughts and possibilities—not to mention fantasies of inflicting torture and pain on Wyatt—flooded her mind as she made her way toward the Humvee. Staying in shadow, taking her time, Remy nevertheless moved quickly, and soon she was right at the vehicle. It was hidden by a large scrub of bushes in the shadow of the building. She’d only seen it by chance because of the way the moonlight hit the metal.

  She listened. Waited. Breathed.

  She heard nothing. Crouching low, she ran up to the truck and rose slowly on her toes to look inside the windows. It was dark, and hard to see for certain, but she didn’t spy any shape that looked human.

  Once she was sure no one was about, she carefully tried the door. It was unlocked.

  Heart beating nearly in her throat, she eased it open, aware that an interior light might come on but that she had to take the chance. When the white light cut into the darkness in what felt like a silent explosion, she hardly winced. After another quick look around, she climbed inside and closed the door silently. Blessedly, the light went out.

  Hard to discern details in the dark, but she saw that the front seats were empty. On the floor in the rear, however was a duffel bag. It could contain some goodies—including a hint as to whether this was Ian’s truck or not—but now was not the time to dig through it. There could even be a gun! Once she got away from here . . .

  Remy bent down to look under the steering wheel well, where the secret compartment with the ignition switch had been located on Ian’s truck.

  All at once the light went on and she felt a waft of chill air over her back.

  “Well. What do we have here?”

  She froze. The woman’s voice skittered over her skin like a thousand spiders. She knew that voice. Very well.

  Pulling out from her awkward position, Remy found herself facing a woman who was holding the gun she coveted. Her white-blond hair was even more silvery than usual thanks
to the moonlight, and the harsh shadows highlighted her attractive but hard features. Her thin lips were curled into an unfriendly smile, red with color even in the dead of night. She was tall, slender, and wiry with muscle.

  “Hello, Lacey,” Remy said, so tense she felt ill.

  “This must be my lucky day, Goldwyn,” Lacey said, speaking to the man who stood behind her. “Remington Truth. In the flesh. Actually climbing into my truck. As if she wanted to go with me. How much better can it get?”

  At her words, Remy’s heart plummeted and her knees turned wobbly. Oh God. She knows my real name?

  Lacey was nearly as powerful and ruthless as Ian. Not only was she a bounty hunter, but she’d been crystalled by the Strangers as a reward for her loyalty and hard work, which made her immortal and that much more difficult to kill. Her small blue crystal, embedded in the soft skin just below her collarbone, was displayed by a special hole cut into her leather corset. Laced tightly, the corset hugged the bounty hunter’s slender, boyish figure, making her small breasts appear larger. Her arms were long and slender, corded with muscle and decorated with leather wristbands. But the blue crystal, smaller than Remy’s missing gem, showed proudly through its special opening, glowing in the night.

  Remy had encountered Lacey when she first met up with Ian, and several other times after that. The woman hated her on sight, partly because she was with Ian—who was the best at what he did, and whom Lacey wanted to partner with—and partly because Lacey wanted to be Ian’s partner in every way.

  “I’ll shoot the signal flare,” Goldwyn said, also holding a gun. Remy had only met him once, briefly, but she remembered him well. He was an albino with watery red eyes, and his chest was as wide as the Humvee’s door, although he wasn’t crystalled. Nevertheless, getting away from either of them was going to be pretty damn impossible.

  “The fla— No, I don’t want you—” But Lacey was too late; Goldwyn had raised his gun and shot it into the air.

  A brief arc of light curved above the trees as Lacey turned on her partner. “Not yet! You cocked it all up now,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Damn.” She turned to Remy, her features brittle. “Well, we’ll have a little time before he gets here.” Her smile became even more unpleasant and Remy’s insides curdled. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we, my dear? Step out of the truck, nice and slow now. Where’s that dog of yours?” she asked, looking around sharply.

  Remy clamped her mouth shut. She definitely wasn’t going to call Dantès now. The bitch would probably shoot him on sight. Damn. Now her best hope was that Dantès would find Wyatt—no, wait. Wyatt had double-crossed her.

  He wasn’t going to be coming after her if he’d taken the crystal, was he? She was very confused. And very alone.

  Remy felt a cold shock, as if a bucket of water had just been dumped over her head. What were they going to do with her, now that they knew they had Remington Truth? Bluffing was her only option, so she said, “Remington Truth? What are you talking about?”

  Lacey backhanded her with her gun hand, and Remy saw stars. Black waves of nausea engulfed her and the pain sent her spiraling into the dark memories of her ordeal with Seattle. Her cheek hurt and her head pounded, but she fought out of the black vortex and forced her eyes open. She made herself look at the ground through her flashing, watery vision, focusing on the shapes and the reality of where she was . . . and the fury she felt toward this woman.

  “Don’t waste my time pretending. I know who you are,” Lacey said. “And you’re going to make me rich and powerful. I won’t be hoboing it around all the time anymore, once I get you back to the Strangers at Mecca. I’ll be a cocking hero.”

  “I can’t imagine how that’s going to happen,” Remy said, keeping her voice strong with conviction. For now her only option seemed to be to confuse and delay.

  Lacey’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment Remy thought she was going to hit her again. But Goldwyn put a hand on Lacey’s arm and said, “Won’t help us if she’s dead or messed up. Wait till he gets here.”

  “I’ll mess her up all right,” Lacey promised. “Then we’ll see if he—” She clamped her lips shut and glared at Remy.

  Her insides were a mess, her cheek and jaw throbbed, and now Remy had more questions: who was “he” and what had Lacey been about to say? Possible answers trammeled through her mind—none of them pleasant. She felt as if she’d been placed in the middle of a nightmare and had no idea what was going on.

  “How long should we wait?” Goldwyn asked. “He didn’t respond to the signal flare. Maybe he’s out of range.”

  “Another ten minutes. Then we book. In the meantime, bind her.” Lacey gestured with her gun, and Goldwyn grabbed Remy’s arms, forcing her hands behind her back.

  She felt him digging in his pocket, then the strong, slender plastic the bounty hunters favored for handcuffs were twisted around her wrists. It was painful and tight, cutting into her skin. When Goldwyn finished, he smoothed his hand up and down over the curve of her rear, slowly and intimately.

  “Very nice,” he breathed into her ear before stepping away.

  Remy swallowed hard and kept her mind blank as black terror edged there. This was not going to be like Seattle. She couldn’t live through that again.

  No. She struggled, fought back the fear and the memories with every bit of mental strength she had. If she let them in, she’d be done. She wasn’t going to think about anything but how to escape. Not the future. Not about who was coming. Not about Wyatt. Just now. And here. How.

  Lacey gave her a shove and Remy bounced against the Humvee, her face smashing into the metal edge of the door, then away. Pain burst over her lip and she tasted blood as she spun helplessly. She caught herself before she fell to the ground, tumbling instead onto the front seat of the Humvee, barely missing the steering wheel. She landed facedown, her injured cheek and cut lip crushed into the seat. Bitch.

  The minute Lacey put her gun away, Remy was going to whistle for Dantès. It was her only chance. Once she got put in the truck and driven off, she was done.

  Lacey and Goldwyn conferred in low voices and Remy tried to keep an eye on them, waiting for them to let their guard down. But Lacey still held the gun, and the pain in Remy’s head made it hard to focus. She had to fight to keep from succumbing to the hovering darkness of oblivion.

  Then her captors stopped talking and Remy heard the sound of someone approaching. It took great effort, but she dragged herself up and out of the truck, wobbly on her feet, just in time to see Ian Marck walk into the moonlight.

  Chapter 10

  Remy’s first reaction was relief, which immediately changed to uncertainty when her captors greeted Ian readily. She leaned against the truck, the only thing keeping her upright. Blood dripped from her lip and her head felt two sizes too big.

  “You found her,” Ian said as he approached with long, easy strides. When he barely glanced over, Remy’s heart sank into her nauseated belly. The fact that he didn’t sound surprised made her feel even worse.

  “You didn’t respond to the signal,” Lacey told him.

  “I saw no need. As you can see, I was close enough to get here quickly.” Now Ian turned to look at her. “Damn. What the fuck happened to her?”

  “She was mouthy,” Lacey said. “Pissed me off.”

  Remy didn’t have the energy to speak, but she was certain he read the sentiment in her murderous glare. Ian shook his head and turned back to Lacey. “She doesn’t have the crystal.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  Remy wondered the same thing.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Ian said, moving to stand next to her. “I was with her for a while, then we had to scatter when the zombies attacked. I thought I lost her.” He gave Remy a tight, cold smile, and it was all she could do not to spit in his face. But she wasn’t stupid enough to let her emotions get the best of her. She had to remain calm and cool and think about her next steps.

  “She didn’t say nothing
,” Goldwyn replied. “You were with her?”

  “Didn’t I say that?” Ian replied, his tones unpleasant as he raked over Remy with his eyes. “Watch her,” he ordered the albino, gesturing to Remy. Then he turned to Lacey and took her arm, leading her far enough away that their conversation was inaudible.

  Still hoping for any opportunity to escape, Remy eyed the two of them. Lacey bristled as she faced Ian, speaking intensely. But as Remy watched, Ian’s body language changed: he relaxed, eased closer to the silvery blond woman in the sort of sexy slouch a man did when he was interested in a female, bringing his hips a little closer, head tilting to the side as he looked down at her.

  Remy had asked Ian about Lacey once, when they were together. One of the reasons Seattle hated Ian enough to kill him was because he wanted Lacey, and he believed she and Ian were lovers. But when Remy asked Ian about Lacey, he responded negatively, with great disgust. Fuck, no, were his exact words.

  Apparently, his opinion had changed.

  Lacey relaxed visibly and Remy heard the low, husky rumble of her laugh as she fairly melted into Ian. They shifted so that Ian’s back was toward the Humvee, blocking Lacey from view, and Remy saw him bend to kiss her. It was not a brief one.

  “Jealous?” said a deep voice in her ear. Goldwyn’s presence engulfed her, causing her stomach to pitch unpleasantly. “I can take your mind off that.”

  Before she could move away, he slid his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against him so her bound hands were against his crotch. Remy gagged as he pressed his erection firmly into her hands as his fingers moved around to caress her cheek, then slide down from her shoulder over her breast.

  She shuddered, closing her eyes as she tried not to vomit, tried to stave off the ugly, dark memories that swarmed her as she struggled to ignore the feel of his hands on her. Breathe. She slammed her heel down onto his foot then squeezed the soft part of him pressing into her from behind.