Collateral Damage (25 page)

"It is happening, love." Vince stretched out at my side and smoothed his hand over my stringy hair. "Cyrus gave you what he gave them, didn't he?" His fingertips whispered along my throat. "Adrenaline overpowered the drug briefly, but it's taken hold and you can't fight it off. You will need again and again until you're spent."

"We don't have time for this." I groaned as his lips followed the path of his fingers. "They'll find us."

"Hush." He nibbled on my jaw and slid a hand over my breast, molding it through the shirt. "I will give you some satisfaction. Quickly. It should be enough to last you until we get to shelter. Then we'll have all day."

"I can wait."

His hands and mouth left me. "Can you?"

My body arched off the ground, beyond my control, mindlessly seeking, seeking

. . . .

"Enough of this." Vince climbed over me, holding me down with his weight, spreading my thighs with his knees. "I can't stand to watch you suffer. And I'm not giving you a choice."

Pressure in slick, wet depths. The relief of penetration. My insides clamped around his fingers—his fingers, not his . . . . "Vince?"

"Take it, baby." He bent down to swallow my gasps with a deep kiss. "They're coming. I will give you more when it's safe to do so."

His fingers shoved in and curved, and I came apart. My hips thrust up again and again with each violent climax. As I threw my head back to scream, he covered my mouth with his other hand.

"Ride it to the very end." He whispered, pressing further, giving my core three fingers to clench down on. The slide of his fingers made a soft wet sound, and the rich, sweet scent of my own arousal filled the air. He kissed my forehead when my pussy gave one last, weak squeeze. "There we go. Up with you now."

Slightly numb, I clung to him as he stood. My bones had gone liquid. My mind had gone . . . elsewhere.

Vince sighed and patted my cheek. Hard. "Nicole."

The almost-slap and his stern tone cleared my head. I sucked in the crisp air, drawing in the cold that didn't touch my blazing, hot body. Then I exhaled and nodded.

"I'm okay. Thank you."

He arched a brow and sucked his fingers into his mouth. After smacking his lips, he grinned at me. "My pleasure, love."

Bristling, I grabbed his wrist and started walking.

Just to be jerked to a halt and slammed against a tree trunk. "Wh—?"

My words were cut off by a sharp look from Vince.

"Patrick, I can't!" A woman's shrill voice cut through the silence. "It's almost dawn, and I'm on fire! Please just fuck me!"

"I've had your nasty cunt twice. I want her." Patrick, the man who'd used a bottle on me, sounded desperate. As though the drug had driven him a little mad. "This won't stop until I have her. I have to—can't you smell that? It's like she's here . . . ."

Damn it. I've led them right to us.

Digging his fingers into my arm, Vince gave me a look that clearly said "Stay."

Then he released me and moved as though to go after Patrick.

I caught his hand and shook my head, mouthing, "You go. I go."

His glare was fierce enough to make me wince, but I held on tight.

"There's no sign of them, Pat." Chris had joined them. And by the sounds of it, he hadn't come alone. "If they'd made it back to the house, we'd have been told. Let's regroup, get some rest, and start fresh this evening. They'll be trapped, and we'll be refreshed. And this shit we took will be out of our systems. That bitch killed three of our people. When I get my hands on her, it won't be for sex."

Trembling, I moved closer to Vince, and he put an arm around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest as though to let me know he'd protect me. And I was more than grateful for his comfort. I'd been as tough as I was capable of that night. At that point, I was about ready to find a bed just to climb under the covers and hide.

What happened to the badass?

The badass forgot her knife and her gun while she was running away.

"You'll let me have her first?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, man," Chris said. "Long as you come now, you can have her first.

Probably better that way—there won't be much left of her when I'm done."

As their voices faded, as tension left the muscles in Vince's chest, I stopped shaking. And stopped breathing. The merciless heat receded as my skin became clammy and cold.

"No, Nicole." Vince dragged me up against him with one arm and pressed his hand to my cheek. "Stay with me. They're gone. You're okay."

"They'll come back for us. For me." Tears welled up in my eyes, but didn't spill.

Blinking only made my lashes wet. I'd already cried a lifetime's worth of tears. Maybe I had none left. "I can't take anymore, Vince. I can't."

"You can." He used his thumb to swipe away the clinging tears. "But you won't have to. Not today. Today, you'll be out of reach. And tomorrow . . . ." His lips drew into a thin line. "Tomorrow, they'll have to deal with us both."

That's right. You're not alone anymore.
My throat worked as though my mind and body had to swallow the information before accepting it.
Vince is a lot tougher than them.

You've got nothing to worry about.

Well, at least until we won the game. Then we'd be dealing with Cyrus.

"It won't be that bad." Vince said, dryly. "Cyrus likes you."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'd hate to see what he'd do to me if he didn't."

"Yes. You would."

"Alrighty then. Moving away from
that
subject . . . ." Feeling a bit stronger, I eased away from him and eyed the path up to the mountain. "So where exactly is this shelter?"

"There's a creek between here and the river." He pointed to where the sky lightened beyond a sharp slope. "Shouldn't take long to find it."

"We only have a few minutes until dawn becomes a problem, don't we?"

"And there's that."

"How long do you have once the sun comes up?" I threaded my fingers with his, keeping him near me so he could follow my footing as the path got lumpy with jutting roots and rocks. "Will you just poof?"

"No. No poofing." He stepped over a small crevice I hadn't noticed, his stride more confident than it had been earlier. As though he knew this area very well. "My skin will blister, then peel and break as though invisible flames are eating at me. If I'm exposed long enough—more than a few seconds—my body will catch fire. A fire so well fueled it's almost impossible to put out. And, even if it is put out, I will die. The sun is like the strongest poison. It doesn't take much to be fatal."

His calm, matter-of-fact tone set my teeth on edge. I picked up my pace. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Pet—"

"Don't you dare call me 'Pet' now."

"Sweetheart—"

"That either."

"Nicole—"

"I should god damn well slap you for putting yourself at risk like this when I went to so much trouble to keep you alive." I kicked a twig, my words just not enough to show how angry I was. "I could have gone horny for a little while longer!
That
wouldn't have killed
me.
You—"

Vince let out a low growl, tore his hand free, and then swooped me up over his shoulder. He laid a sharp smack on my bare butt and spoke over my screech. "That's quite enough of your lip, my girl. I do believe I've been tolerant enough for one night."

I kicked and pounded his back with my fists. "Put me down!"

Smack.
I cursed as hot pain blazed over my ass.

"Nicole. Stop!" Laughter undercut his gruff command. He swung me off his shoulder and set me down. "We're here."

"Oh." My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I shuffled my feet. "Why didn't you just say so?"

He snorted and shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Yeah, well . . . ." I twisted my lips and surveyed the area around us. Weeds, trees, and rocks. "Where's your shelter?"

"Right here." He stepped away from me, knelt, and then tore at a thick patch of weeds. Revealing a great big hole. In the ground. "It will shield me from the sun and hide us both in case they wake before . . . ." His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."
I'm good with spending the day in a virtual grave. Really.
I hugged myself and avoided his steady gaze. "Lead the way. I'll be right with you."

For a moment, he studied my face. Then he gave me a curt nod. "Don't move."

"Again with the 'stay'." I mumbled as he ducked into the deep dark pit. "Not like I've got anywhere else to go."

Golden light filtered through the dangling weeds. I frowned and crouched. Light was always good . . .

"Come on, love." Vince coaxed from within. "It's quite roomy in here, and the candles will warm the space up rather quickly."

Still a hole, but somehow less scary now that it was bright and he was inside. The opening wasn't even that small. I could do this . . . .

Before I had a chance to change my mind, I scrambled inside with my eyes shut tight. Down, down—I finally felt the floor. A quick glance up and I pitched myself into Vince's wide spread arms.

"There we go." He stroked my back and kissed the top of my head. "Look around before you convince yourself the walls are closing in on you. I spent years working on this, enlarging it as I grew. At first it was just a small hideaway for a little boy to play where no one could find him, but then it became a place where I could spend days at a time in solitude. This is where I learned to survive outdoors before I went looking for more challenging alternatives."

"Why did you want to hide?" I laid my head against his shoulder, not ready to look yet. I'd hold on to his claims that the room was big for now. "When you were a kid I mean?"

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know." He put his hand under my chin and tipped my head up. "After you look."

Slitting my eyes to take in a bit at a time. The ceiling was actually higher than I'd thought it would be. I could probably stand straight with room to spare. What looked like a slender, bowed tree crossed the dirt expanse. The room was circular, but . . . well it really was a room. A bed made up of thick planks, covered in heavy quilts took up the space across from us. Beside it was shelves filled with bottles of liquor and carved, wooden animals.

I eased out of Vince's arms. Proved I could stand straight. Heaved a sigh of relief and went to the shelf.

Picking up a large eagle posed for flight, I glanced back at Vince who still sat on the floor leaning back against the dirt wall. "This is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." His lip curved up slightly. "But you knew that."

I had, really, but I was still surprised. The attention to detail—I traced the smooth, tiny feathers around the bird's piercing eyes and tried to imagine the talent and patience it must have taken to create this work of art. To create all of them. Some of the smaller pieces were rougher, as though he hadn't quite reached his full potential when he'd made them, but I could see his progress from one to the next.

"How did you learn to do this?" I carefully replaced the eagle and bent down to touch what looked like a bear. Or a dog. "How long have you been doing it?"

"I taught myself—started when I was around eight years old." Vince rose and went to the mouth of the shelter. He reached up, and I heard a faint, rustling sound.

Then he crossed the room to sit on the bed. "I needed a place and things that belonged to me. That couldn't be taken away. I used to bury them because I thought someone—

probably Cyrus—would find them and decide I was wasting my time, but, eventually, I realized he didn't care what I did when I came here. So long as I returned before he had to send someone after me."

I turned away from the shelves and joined him on the bed, folding my legs under me and leaning forward a little. "Did he?"

"Yes." Vince shrugged his shoulder back and stared up at the ceiling. "The first time the men destroyed my little hole and dragged me back. I'd snuck out without telling anyone. Cyrus came to my room that night and told me if I abused my freedom, I would lose it. After that, I made sure to tell him how long I'd be gone. I proved I could be trusted, and he let me be."

"Why didn't you try to escape?" I tried to picture the boy he'd been, a boy like Alrik, trapped in Cyrus' world with no way out. But it didn't sit right. He'd had a way—

he just hadn't taken it. "Why didn't you run and find someone—"

"Who?" He asked. "Both my parents were dead. I had no one else. And, more than anything, I wanted to be like Cyrus' men. Untouchable. I didn't want to be like the men and women that were captured for the crowds. I saw them dragged into the house, beaten, bloody, screaming . . . . They disappeared into the basement and never came back up. I was afraid that if I didn't prove myself strong enough to stand with Cyrus, I would join them."

He'd divulged more than I'd expected him to. As though he wanted—no—
needed
me to understand.

And I did. This was exactly what I feared would happen to Alrik. But wouldn't.

Because he, unlike Vince, had someone. Two someones.

I sighed and reached out to touch his hand. "I wish—"

"Your turn." He enfolded my hands in both of his. "Tell me about your father."

Uck.
I made a face. "What's there to tell? He committed suicide when I was eleven. Checked out. The end."

Vince nodded slowly. "Why?"

"Because he couldn't deal with my mother." I tugged at my hands, but he wouldn't release them. So I scowled and continued. "She's OCD and bipolar. He suffered from severe depression. Bad combo."

"So he left you to deal with her alone."

"Yeah." I hunched my shoulders and stared at my feet. "But it wasn't his fault.

And it's not her fault. Years of therapy helped me understand that. And forgive them."

"Bullshit."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You haven't forgiven either of them. Playing lip service to some professional to get the 'well-adjusted' stamp doesn't count for shit. You hate your father for giving up—