Abandon The Night (26 page)

“Where the hell is Marley Huvane?” Lacey demanded. “Raul messaged that you had her, and then I hear nothing. Fielding’s going to send that bastard Seattle out after her when he gets back—he’s after that damn
ganga
hunter, with the weird arrows—so if you don’t get Marley by then, we’re out of the running. And that’s a cock-honking big bounty.”

“I don’t have her.”

“What about Raul?” Lacey leaned closer, bumping her leg into his. Purposely. “Does he still have her? She’s worth—”

“Raul’s dead,” he drawled.

Lacey jolted a bit in surprise, but it wasn’t her way to give up any weakness, so it was quickly masked. “Dead. How?” He could fairly hear her mind calculating, working, conniving.

Ian shrugged, gestured for another whiskey. And lied. “I killed him.”
Now go the fuck away.

“You’re openly admitting that?” Lacey said, her voice dropping for the first time. “What the cock is wrong with you? Fielding’s just waiting for a chance to—”

“Fielding isn’t going to care because I’ve discovered something much more valuable to him.” The whiskey arrived and he finished off the second one with a gulp, noting that, so far, it had done nothing to dull his senses. Especially now that Lacey had arrived. Now she’d planted her hand on his thigh, like she owned him.

Unfortunately, she practically did. Thanks to Raul.

“What?”

“His son.”

Lacey’s face displayed absolute shock. Then she broke into a greedy smile, which didn’t do much to soften her foxlike features. “Well, son of a bastard, Ian. You’re smart
and
pretty. I love that you always seem to have a surprise up your sleeve.” She squeezed him through his jeans. “I never believed it possible. You’re certain it’s him?”

He concentrated on the whiskey and its trickle of warmth as he sipped from the third. That was the bad part about Raul being dead. There was no buffer between him and Lacey. “I’ve seen his damn photo often enough,” Ian replied. “Right on Fielding’s desk.”

“Where is he?” she prodded.

“I’m tracking him. It won’t be long. And since no one else knows about him, I don’t expect any problems.”

Lacey smiled, her lips wide and red. Men found her attractive until they got to know what was beneath the surface, hidden inside along with the crystal’s tentacles. Ian had made that mistake. Once.

“I’ll pass the news along. Fielding wouldn’t be any happier if you’d said you found Remington Truth. This’s about the only thing that would save your ass from his wrath for killing Raul.”

“I was certain he’d feel that way.” Ian bared his teeth in a humorless smile and took another sip of the drink. Fielding had no idea what kind of compensation he was going to demand.

“Whatever you do, keep ahead of Seattle,” she ordered. “You get Fielding before that cock-sucker even figures out he’s alive.”

Meaning, Ian knew, that she didn’t want the bounty hunter getting powerful enough to convince Fielding to have him crystaled. That would mean she and Seattle would be on equal footing, and it would make her fucking crazy.

Just then, the door opened.

At first he didn’t recognize her. But the simple fact that it was a woman who stood in the entrance caught his—and everyone else’s—attention, and then when he got a closer look, he felt his world tip. He was pretty damn sure it wasn’t because of the whiskey.

Impossible
.

Ian checked again as she stood in the sunny doorway.
Tall, curvy. Yes. Long, dark hair. Pulled back and up, but yes. Startling blue eyes. Mmmhmm. The haughty face of a princess—the type that got caught in a guy’s dreams. Yep.

“Who the hell is that?” Lacey said, her voice pitching high and tight.

“That,” said Ian, standing and slipping smoothly from her grip, “is my new partner.”

Remy knew the minute she opened the door she’d made a mistake.

But she was too slow, sluggish from lack of food and sleep, to react.
Ian Marck
. At first she couldn’t believe her eyes that it was him—had seen her. Their eyes met across the dark space and he was on his feet in an instant.

How could this happen? What were the chances?

Before she could fully assimilate the situation and back out, Ian was there, grabbing the door she would have closed. Behind him, Remy saw the woman he’d left, sitting at the bar, staring after him with a pissed-off expression. And then she noticed the glow of the woman’s crystal, proud and bright.

Unbelievable. Into the fricking fire.

“Don’t say anything,” Ian ordered in a low voice, standing in the doorway between her and the rest of the occupants. “Just play along with me or you’re toast.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, her heart thumping, her palms slick. As if she’d trust Ian Marck to have her interests at heart. “I’m leaving.” Dantès sat beneath a tree, where she’d ordered him, and she glanced over at the dog, whose ears perked up.

“If you leave, you’ll be followed.” His stormy blue eyes held that same cold look they always did. Except that time he’d kissed her. Then they’d been flat and furious when he pulled away.

Remy felt the weight of too much attention from too many eyes. “I’m not worried about that. Dantès will take care of them,” she replied.

Ian shook his head. “He can’t compete with a bullet.”

“Just leave me alone.” Remy turned and would have walked away if he hadn’t reached for her arm.

He didn’t hurt her, but his grip was firm. “I can protect you better if you come in and act as if nothing is wrong.”

She would have laughed in his face if she hadn’t been so exhausted and hungry. Instead, she asked, “And who’s going to protect me from you?”

His mouth thinned. “You’ve done a fine job of that yourself in the recent past.”

Which made her frown, because she hadn’t hurt him badly enough that night she escaped. She knew she hadn’t disarmed him with that single elbow thrust and instep-stomp, but he’d fallen to the ground as if in pain. Allowed her to get away.

That knowledge made her uneasy. Ian Marck had secrets, and he was even more ruthless than his father.

Ian glanced behind him and then turned back to her. “The opportunity is going to pass by in about ten seconds. Either come in and play along with me or you’re going to be in over your damned head.”

“Is the food any good here?” she asked, caving in to basic needs.

“No, but it’ll do, and she pours a good whiskey.”

She had to eat, at least, or she was going to be a worthless puddle anyway. No one knew her secret. She had nothing to fear.

Except from Ian Marck.

Who was now volunteering to be her protector.

What the hell did he want in return?

Quent expected Zoë to make an appearance within the next day after leaving the weapon, but after three nights of no sign of her, he began to wonder.

He debated riding back to her hideaway, but what if he missed her again? Without any form of communication, they could do that for weeks. And when he’d visited her home last, he’d left no sign of his presence, which, in retrospect, had been foolish.

She wouldn’t even know he’d been there.

Nevertheless, despite the nights of half-sleep as he waited for his nocturnal visitor, Quent’s days were busy. Filled with plotting and planning, practicing with his Elite-Killer, or the Eeker, as Fence had dubbed it one night after several too many pints, Quent grew more and more determined to walk away from Fielding alive, and carrying the man’s crystal.

Theo, Lou, and Jade had worked with Marley to help determine where Mecca was, using landmarks and Quent’s assistance in regard to where he’d driven. He wished for Zoë at that time as well, for she was as well traveled as any of them.

At last, they felt confident the proper location was determined, and with Marley’s description of the compound, its guards, and her own strategy for escape, Quent had his plan in place.

“I’ve never been to Fielding’s private quarters,” Marley warned. “Only to his public parlor and dining room. I have no idea how it’s set up, or what you’ll find.”

Quent shrugged off her worry. “He thinks I’ve been dead for fifty years. I’ve already got the advantage. And why would I want to harm him?”
Let me count the goddamn ways.

He could already feel the thrust of the Eeker into flesh, the satisfaction of the twisting of it into his body and watching the man’s face curdle in agony as he yanked it free. Quent closed his fingers and imagined…freedom.

Freedom from regret. From hatred. From guilt.

From wondering about him, thinking about him. How the man he so hated haunted his thoughts, drove his actions.

“It’s the escape afterward that worries me the most,” Marley said. “As if they’re just going to let you walk away after cutting out Fielding’s crystal.”

“Who the fuck knows? They might be celebrating,” Quent replied flippantly. He didn’t care. He just wanted it over with, one way or another. He’d die happy if he knew his father was on his way to hell.

But what about Zoë?

Beneath the moon, Quent walked his regular path between the hulking buildings and remnants of them, hoping that she’d find him this last night before they left. Where was she? Why didn’t she come?

But she didn’t.

Fence and Theo were on board to accompany him, and at last, they were ready to embark. Armed with homemade Taser guns made by Lou and Fence from old electric razors, along with a variety of other equipment, they opted to ride horses instead of taking the humvee.

“We’ll camp tonight,” said Fence, who’d been their guide in the Sedona cave all those years ago. “And tomorrow we should arrive with plenty of daylight to spare.”

Although Quent chafed at waiting yet another day before coming face-to-face with Fielding, he’d been on enough excursions to know that pacing was important. That was why he’d given Fence the charge of planning the trip, certain that he’d put good sense aside in his zealousness to get there and get the confrontation over with.

“Marley and me were getting a little cozy last night,” Theo commented as they rode along in a southwestern direction. “That bother you, Quent?”

“Marley and me? Wasn’t that a movie?” Fence said. The sun would have been shining on his dark bald head if he hadn’t tied a handkerchief on it. “Wasn’t Marley the dog?” He laughed, a big rolling sound.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Quent told Theo. “But Marley’s a bit of a free spirit.” He knew that the other guy was still nursing a broken heart over Sage and Simon hooking up, and he figured Theo didn’t need any more heartache when he’d been carrying a torch for Sage for years. That was part of the reason he had insisted on going on this mission. The computer room had become a hell of a lot smaller in the last few weeks.

“Marley’s got a thing for you,” Theo said. “But that gives us a lot to talk about.”

“You got a thing for Quent too?” Fence replied. “Damn, am I going to have to find another place to sleep tonight, bro?”

Theo grinned in spite of himself. “As long as we get the extra blanket.”

“Fuck that,” Fence responded. “You’ll have each other to keep warm. And what do you mean, you have a lot to
talk
about with her? What the hell are you doing,
talking
? That woman is one hot piece of ass. You oughta be getting some of that instead of talking.”

“If we see any
gangas
tonight,” Quent said, imagining what Marley’s reaction to being called “a hot piece of ass” would be, “I want to try and catch one of them alive. In fact, I want to make a point of it.”

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Those mothers smell like…hell, I can’t even describe it. Death. Rot. A fucking outhouse. And if you get too close, you get all weak and shit from the odor.”

“Why do you want to catch one?” asked Theo, still smiling at Fence’s theatrics.

“I want to practice with my Eeker.” The truth was, Quent could hardly say the name of the weapon without laughing, it sounded so bloody ridiculous. But it was better than saying the long metal weapon, or the crystal grabber. “On a living thing.”

“Don’t you mean a
non
-living thing?” Fence replied. “Or is it unliving? Undead?” He looked at Theo, the resident pop culture geek. “What’s the PC term?”

“I believe they prefer the term unliving.”

“So, what are you going to do, tie it up and keep stabbing at it? Fuck, that’ll be a mess with all that stinky, rotting flesh lumping all the hell over the place. You’re gonna keep yanking out pieces of it? My man, that’s called torture in my book. For both the thing and me. It’s gonna stink to high heaven.”

“Since their skin’s always dropping off in clumps anyway, I don’t think it would care,” Quent replied blandly.

But Fence was shaking his head. “I don’t know. You better be careful, or you’re going to have
PETZ
on your pretty British ass.”

“Pets?” Theo asked, obviously waiting for the punchline. He knew Fence, and therefore knew it was coming. “Like, dogs or cats?”

“You never heard of PETZ?
P-E-T-Z
. People for the Ethical Treatment of Zombies,” the big guy replied with a grin. “They’ll be picketing and demonstrating all around Envy if Quent ain’t careful.”

They all laughed, even Quent.

And so the day went, peppered with Fence’s absurd comments as they rode quickly along the route he’d plotted out. Quent didn’t mind the distraction his friend provided, and he suspected Theo felt the same way.

As planned, they found a safe place to camp that night, on the second floor of a large house. The ceilings were high, making the second floor safe from
ganga
reach once they hacked away the bottom half of the sweeping staircase. Having done this many times in the past seven months when they were traveling around trying to find Envy, the three of them made short work of the lower ten steps and used a rope ladder to climb up.

“And here we have the spacious loft,” Fence said with a sweep of his muscular arm. “Complete with broken skylights, filthy windows—some of them even intact—and the hospitality of a variety of rodents. The three sofas, inhabited by any number of creatures, need a little work, but with a bit of paint and trim, this loft could be cozy as a little bungalow.” He grinned. “My mama was in real estate.”