Night Resurrected Read online

  Dad winked. “It might be fun, you know. I’ve always wanted to go. But, Catie, if you feel more comfortable staying here with Yvonne, I completely understand. I’ll find someone else who wants to travel with me. I won’t go alone. Brady Luck looks like he’s old enough to have been a survivor.” His eyes still glinted with humor.

  Cat was shaking her head hardly before she realized her decision. “No, Dad, I’ll go with you. I’d like to find out more about this resistance group.”

  His smile wavered, then turned affectionate. “Ah, yes. I was afraid you’d say that.”

  Wyatt looked down at the orange crystal.

  It was about the circumference of a nickel, roughly spherical in shape and rough around the edges. Certainly not something that had been polished and prepared for a jewelry setting.

  Could it really be the Mother crystal? The source of power for the Atlanteans? Something this small and irregular?

  Regardless, it affected the zombies. It seemed to call them. And it was important to the Strangers. Therefore he had to do whatever it took to keep it safe and out of their hands.

  He shifted, looking down from his perch high in a massive tree with widespread limbs. The zombies were long gone, having disappeared once dawn began to color the sky. But Wyatt had taken no chances, so late last night he climbed high onto a sturdy branch, tying himself in place so he could sleep safely.

  It also gave him a good vantage point, this high off the ground.

  Now he rose, standing on the branch. The trees were close and the leaves thick, but he could see pretty well in a circumference of two miles. Nothing. No sign of movement. No sign of Remy.

  A twinge of conscience pricked at him and he pushed it away. He’d done the right thing.

  Instead of dwelling on that, he climbed down and landed on the ground. It was daylight and he had time to go back to the truck rig. There were several things they’d left during their unexpected flight. After retrieving them, he meant to catch a wild horse and be on his way.

  But just as he turned to start back along the overgrown road, he heard a bark.

  A very familiar bark.

  Chapter 11

  Remy was relieved and surprised when Ian insisted that Goldwyn give her something to eat and keep her arms unbound. She was tied by her ankle to the table leg, however, and her captor made certain to keep his weapon in full view.

  Ian pulled Goldwyn aside and got in his face, hopefully telling him, in his low, sharp tones, not to touch her. Then he and Lacey left without another glance.

  Despite the soreness and pain of her injured face, Remy managed to eat the beef jerky and hunk of bread she was given and gulped down three glasses of water. Her captor sneered every time she asked for a refill, but whatever Ian threatened him with must have been serious, for Goldwyn capitulated.

  Nothing like feeling as if she were the calf being fattened up for later. A little shiver ran over her shoulders when she remembered Lacey’s cold, promising smile. As she refueled, she looked around the small room, hoping to find some inspiration for escape. But she saw nothing optimistic. The space was windowless except for one high, small opening she’d never be able to get to. Goldwyn sat between her and the only door, eating his own meal. Her leg shackled to the table gave her only a small radius of movement.

  By the time she finished eating, Remy hadn’t come up with any possibility for escape. The aches and pounding of her head had eased with the water and food, but she was exhausted and still in significant pain.

  With nothing else to do but wait, she pillowed her head on the table, injured side up, and closed her eyes. She didn’t expect to fall asleep, but realized she must have dozed off when something jolted her awake.

  A hand closed over her mouth, something metallic and cold pressed into her neck.

  “Don’t make a sound.”

  She was terrified and startled and at first she didn’t realize who was holding a gun against her neck. But when he bent to slice away the plastic cord binding her to the table leg, Remy realized it was Ian.

  “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and taut. He yanked her up off the chair, half dragging her against him as he hurried to the door.

  She caught a glimpse of Goldwyn in a pale heap on the floor as they passed him. There was no way of knowing whether he was dead, but she didn’t see any blood.

  Not that she cared either way.

  And, she guessed, if he were dead, there’d be no reason to hurry or be silent.

  With the gun pressed into her ribs, Ian hustled her outside and into the Humvee. He was none too gentle as he shoved her into the truck from the passenger side, then used the gun to gesture her all the way over behind the steering wheel.

  “Drive. Now,” he ordered, the firearm still aimed at her as he looked back toward the building.

  Remy’s hands shook but she found the small compartment under the steering wheel well and, still stunned and confused, managed to push the ignition button. The truck leaped forward when she pressed the accelerator and she gripped the wheel tightly as it careened over the rough, uneven terrain.

  “Double-crossing your friends,” she said once she had the vehicle under control. “Nice.”

  Ian lowered his weapon and buckled himself in. “I wouldn’t call them friends.” He lifted his hips to tuck the gun into his jeans. Apparently he didn’t consider her a threat any longer.

  Or maybe he never had.

  “That’s true. Lacey definitely thinks of you as more than a friend,” Remy said, swerving to avoid a sheet of rusted metal. “And vice versa.”

  “Fuck,” he said, his voice filled with loathing.

  Remy couldn’t hold back a humorless chuckle. “Exactly.”

  “And here I thought you might show a little gratitude. She had plans for you.”

  Remy couldn’t hold back a shudder. She didn’t want to imagine what Lacey would have done to her. “And what about you?” she retorted. Even now, after the confusing events of the last few hours, she didn’t know whether to thank him or despise him.

  “I have plans for you too,” he said. “Just not the same ones.”

  Her throat went dry. There was a note of promise, a little bit of rough desire in his voice . . . or maybe not. It was hard to tell with Ian. And she’d just witnessed the man seducing that skanky woman, which, apparently, was not top on his list of pleasant things.

  Or so he wanted her to believe.

  Remy wanted to shake her head to clear it. She was so damned confused. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” she demanded.

  He swore as the truck slammed into a massive hole, then lurched forward without slowing its speed. “Mine.”

  She chanced a look at him. “Well, finally. A bit of truth from you.”

  “I’ve never lied to you.”

  Remy snorted. “I find that hard to believe.” A thought struck her and she slammed on the brakes, causing Ian to jolt violently.

  “What the hell!”

  “I want to go back and find Dantès. I’m not leaving him in the wilderness by himself. He won’t have gone far from where I was, even if you sent him off.”

  Ian didn’t look happy, but to her surprise he capitulated without further argument. “Only because it’s on the way. Head northwest. If he isn’t there, we’re leaving.”

  “And then where are we going?”

  His lips tightened as he pressed them together. “Just fucking drive.”

  Remy was unsettled, but at least he seemed willing to allow her to retrieve Dantès. And with Dantès in the truck, if she was lucky enough to find him again, she’d have a modicum of protection.

  She’d already decided she had to get to Envy, with or without Ian, with or without the Humvee. Wyatt had the crystal, and surely that’s where he was headed.

  You’ve got to take that crystal to Envy. We can’t let the Strangers get it. Whatever you do, get to Envy.

  That was what he’d said to her, in those last moments before he shoved her off into the wild
jungle.

  Those last moments . . . when he was slipping the stone from her pocket, the bastard. She grimaced and felt a twinge from her sore lip.

  Then it occurred to her. He could be sending her to Envy while he took the crystal and went in a totally different direction, to a totally different place. For what? To do what? She’d never locate him.

  She couldn’t tighten her busted lips so she gritted her teeth. She had no choice. She’d find a way to give Ian the slip and she’d get to Envy. At least Elliott was there. Maybe he, at least, would help.

  It took more than an hour of slow, bouncing driving, but at last they came to the overgrown clearing with the old school building. Remy leaped from the Humvee, calling Dantès before her feet hit the ground. She heard a joyous bark in the distance and her heart leapt as she called him again.

  Moments later the dog burst from the dark forest and barreled up to her so crazily he nearly knocked her over. Crouching next to him, she buried her face in his fur and allowed him to kiss her chin. Thank God.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking up at Ian with watery eyes.

  He was watching impassively, but he also had the gun back in his hand. Now he gestured with it. “The dog goes in the back, or he doesn’t go.”

  Remy froze and rose to her feet. “What do you mean?”

  “He goes in the back of the truck, behind the screen, or he stays here. I can’t have any loose cannons. Let’s go.”

  Her mind numb with questions, feeling a skitter of nerves, Remy walked over to the truck with her pet. Ian opened the back and ushered Dantès in, then closed the door. So much for the added protection from her dog.

  She was about to climb into the driver’s seat when Ian took her by the wrist. “Remy,” he said, backing her up against the door of the truck.

  Her throat closed up and her heart stopped. But he merely took her gently by the chin, turning her face to the side so he could look at her injuries.

  “Who did this?”

  “Your friends,” Remy replied tightly. “Who did you think?”

  “I assumed. But there was the slight possibility you hurt yourself running from the zombies.” His jaw was tight, shifting as he looked down at her. With a light touch, he traced the side of her face that was swollen and tender. “You could use some ice.”

  “I’ll be all right.” She started to ease away, but he tightened his fingers around her wrist.

  “I got there as soon as I could,” he said. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he abruptly released her. He tilted his head as if listening, then whipped around to look behind him. After watching the jungle, he turned back. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A little shaken, still uncertain about him and his role in this mess, Remy climbed back into the truck and started it up. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to Envy.”

  Remy navigated the Humvee for many more hours than she wanted to. It was rough going—both mentally and physically. She still ached from her injuries, and the constant jouncing and jolting only made things worse.

  “Time to stop,” she said at last. It was just easing into twilight and one of the headlights on the Humvee was catty-wonker, offering little help in the way of illumination, while the other was hardly more than a glow.

  “Another mile farther and we can stop,” Ian said. “There’s a place to hide the truck.”

  She followed his directions, which led them to a tall, slender, brick building. Even in the dim light she could see the masonry crumbling and covered with ivy. There were no windows, but there was an entrance large enough to drive the Humvee into. She decided the structure must have once been a fire station.

  Inside, it had a high ceiling and one large space into which the fire trucks had presumably been parked. Ian had her drive the truck deep into the building and to the side, where shadows would help conceal it.

  “There’s a creek nearby,” he told her. “If we’re quick, we’ll have time before the zombies come out.”

  “To do what?”

  He grimaced. “Lacey. My skin is still crawling. I want to wash up . . . and you could do the same for your injuries.”

  “Or, in other words, you won’t leave me here alone while you go.” She eyed him coolly. “Well, I can’t blame you for wanting to get rid of the remnants of that skank. I couldn’t believe you went with her.”

  “I had no choice. She was going to carve you up—or worse—if I didn’t distract her somehow.”

  Remy raised an eyebrow, then winced as pain twinged. She certainly wanted to believe him, but could she? “You could have pulled a gun on them instead of screwing her,” she suggested blandly.

  His eyes were cool. “If only it were that easy.”

  “Hmm. So how many times did you feel the need to wash after you touched me?”

  Now his mouth relaxed into a smirk. “You know the answer to that.”

  And well she did, for previously when traveling together they’d slept close every night whether they had sex or not. He certainly hadn’t rushed off to a nearby creek at the first opportunity. He’d made it clear the proximity was partly to keep her from running away, and she believed him.

  At the time, she accepted his decree with the practicality of knowing he wouldn’t hurt her, and that being with him would actually help protect her—from the other bounty hunters as well as zombies and any other dangers that might approach. Aside from that, she’d been waiting to catch him off-guard and take the opportunity to run.

  Now, after going with him to the creek, she had to admit he was right: it felt good to wash away the last bit of grime and blood. And the cool water soothed her swollen, throbbing face. But Ian had insisted she leave Dantès behind, and that made her uncomfortable.

  She was treading water, aware of the softly fading light, listening for the telltale ruuuuuuthhhh, when he swam over to her. Her heart began to pound when she recognized the look in his eyes.

  “My, how quickly you’ve moved on. Lacey would be devastated,” she said when he took her arm and drew her toward him in the water.

  “Damn, Remy, did you have to remind me? Nothing like a downer to ruin the mood.” His expression indicated he wasn’t joking.

  One of her hands was on his broad, sleek shoulder, and their feet brushed as she frog-kicked to stay afloat. He brought her closer and they kissed, his mouth warm and soft over her chilled lips.

  Remy allowed herself to ease into the kiss, pushing away the flicker of memory from the unexpected, knee-weakening kiss Wyatt had given her out of anger. But it wouldn’t go, that flare of memory. And so she kissed Ian harder, trying to drum up more interest.

  He made a soft sound into her lips and curved his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. She was still wearing her shirt and panties, but it hardly mattered: the fabric plastered against her like a second skin, and he was bare from the waist up. His body, strong and warm, pressed into her curves. And from the growing hardness between his legs, it was clear he’d managed to get beyond any distracting thoughts of Lacey.

  But it wasn’t quite so easy for Remy to dismiss her distractions—and the dark memories lingering at the edge of her mind—and she pulled away. For a moment she thought Ian wasn’t going to release her, but after peering into her eyes in the dim light, he did.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said lightly, knowing what he was really asking. “I’m not interested in being your consolation prize for subjecting yourself to Lacey, although I am grateful you chose to do so.” She paddled backward easily, feeling his eyes on her.

  “I wasn’t asking for a quid pro quo,” he replied. She could make out his irritated frown. “You’re just damn hard for a guy to resist.”

  “Not for some,” she muttered before she could stop herself, thinking of Wyatt. Fortunately, her feet touched the bottom then, and she turned and waded out of the water.

  Ian didn’t say anything, but he followed her back to shore. The
y gathered up their things in silence and he led the way to the old firehouse. Dantès was ecstatic to see his mistress again, and she and Ian fell into their old routine: he built a fire, using an old sink to contain it, while she scrounged through his supplies—or whoever the packs in the Humvee belonged to—for sustenance.

  As they dined on beer, smoked fish, dried apples, and some soft, flat bread, she felt Ian’s attention coming back to her in between him listening to sounds of the darkening night.

  “I still can’t figure out,” she said, as much out of curiosity as to divert his attention from her, “whether you double-crossed Lacey and Goldwyn or whether you double-crossed me. You showing up when you did, and then me finding Lacey so close by . . . I can’t imagine that was all an accident.”

  “Not many things in this world are an accident. But believe me when I say I have no allegiance whatsoever to Lacey or Goldwyn.” He took a drink from a bottle of beer, holding her with his eyes as he set it down. “I want that crystal, Remy.”

  She had a momentary pang of surprise. “But you know I don’t have it.”

  Now his face changed. “What do you mean you don’t have it?” For the first time, she saw real anger in his expression.

  “You heard me tell them I don’t have it. You said you knew I didn’t have it.”

  “What do you mean you don’t have it?” His voice was flat and hard, and a flare of nervousness rushed through her. “I saw you with it when the zombies attacked.”

  “I . . . don’t know where it is. I lost it. It came out of my pocket. Probably when I was running away from the zombies.” Remy wasn’t certain why she didn’t tell him that Wyatt had stolen it. Well of course she knew why she didn’t tell him: she didn’t want to have to compete with Ian to get it back. Or to mete out her revenge on him for taking it.

  “You lost the Mother crystal?” His voice was deathly low and his eyes . . . they were hard and glittery and furious.

  “I didn’t think you knew about it,” she said. “You never said anything before.”

  “I didn’t know, dammit. I suspected you knew where it was, but I didn’t know you had it until you brought the fucking thing out and showed it to the zombies. If I had known you were carrying it around all the time, back then, I . . .” He turned away, his jaw clenching visibly.