Hidden Flames (33 page)

“So, I know Cade is former military, and Denny used to teach third grade. What about Greg and Brody? What’s their story?”

Roux hooked her thumbs into the straps of her pack and shrugged as she stared at Brody’s back. “You should ask them.”

“Yeah, but I’m asking you.”

Gregory Strange had been with Cade from the beginning, before Roux or any of the others had joined them. Though pale and malnourished like the rest of them, his towering height and broad shoulders still made him an imposing figure. His hair had been shorter when Roux had first met him, but it now hung down past his shoulders in a dirty, golden sheet.

He stayed to himself, never one to initiate conversation. In fact, Roux had known him for seven months, and she doubted they’d spoken more than a handful of words to each other. She didn’t take it personally, though. He never talked to anyone except Cade, and even then, the conversations didn’t last long.

“Greg used to work in construction. That’s all anyone really knows about him, except for Cade.”

Nevah had hit the nail on the head with her assessment of their leader. Cade didn’t talk about his time in the service, but Roux had heard him mumbling in his sleep about insurgents on more than one occasion.

It had been Cade who had rescued her just months after everything had gone to hell. In the beginning, it had just been her and her younger sister, Evelyn. Roux had done what she could, but she’d been unprepared to protect them from the new evils of the world. Knowing so little about her enemy hadn’t helped, and one night, while searching for food, she’d walked them right into a vampire’s kitchen.

That single mistake had cost her everything.

Within hours of stumbling upon the house, Evelyn had been dead, drained of every last drop of blood while Roux had been forced to watch. In the days that followed, Roux had prayed for death, but her captor had enjoyed watching her suffer too much to grant her wish.

She still didn’t know how Cade had found her. Starved, weak, and half-delirious, she’d thought he was an angel when he’d lifted her from the floor and carried her out of the farmhouse. He’d saved her life that day, and she trusted him—and the others in her group to a lesser degree—but she’d learned a hard lesson from the experience.

Love made her weak.

“And Brody?” Nevah asked, pulling Roux out of her thoughts.

“Brody was SWAT.” The things the man could do with a gun amazed her—when they actually had ammunition. “He kind of keeps to himself.”

“What’s up with his hair?”

Roux couldn’t stop the smile that stretched her lips. Unlike the other men who’d given up on keeping their hair and beards under control, Brody still fought the good fight. Unfortunately, the only weapon in his arsenal was a switchblade, leaving his inky black hair in shaggy, uneven tufts. He was also the only one who grabbed razor blades when they went on their raids, but since he shared with her, Roux didn’t give him a hard time about it.

“He doesn’t like it long.”

Nevah shrugged and dropped the subject. “After we get supplies, we really need to move on.”

“That’s the plan.” Roux glanced sideways at her comrade. “We never stay in one place for too long, and we don’t stick around after a raid.”

Nevah shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. We need to get as far away from this place as possible, away from Trinity Grove.”

“What’s in Trinity Grove? Other than a horde of vampires, that is.”

“Not just vampires, but all kinds of Gemini.”

The Gemini. That was what everyone called them—the monsters with two faces, with dual natures. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, and whatever other strange supernatural creatures prowled the night. Normally, most looked no different than her or any other human, but their dark essence always lurked just beneath the surface. Roux didn’t know where the term had originated, but she definitely found it fitting.

After the Purge, the Gemini had been all too eager to come out of hiding. With so few humans left to oppose them, they’d quickly risen to power, forming the Allied Races Coalition. By the end of the year, they’d divided North America into territories—cities and surrounding areas governed by prominent paranormal families—and nothing had been the same since.

Trinity Grove resided in vampire-controlled territory, but beyond that, Roux didn’t know much about the town or the family that ruled it.

“I still don’t get it,” she admitted. “Gemini are everywhere, what makes this place so different?”

“They call it the Devil’s Den,” Nevah answered after a long pause, her voice quieter, more subdued. “It’s controlled by the Diavolos family. Very old, very powerful, and very deadly. The rumor is their roots go all the way back to the amphitheaters of Rome.”

“Like gladiators?” Roux snorted and shook her head. “Are you serious?”

Nevah didn’t return her smile. “Exactly like gladiators. They’re not strangers to carnage, Roux, and they won’t be merciful if they catch us.”

As far as Roux could tell, they sounded no different than any other member of the Coalition, but she didn’t argue. The trees had started to thin, their branches trimmed back from the two-lane highway as houses and businesses appeared on the side of the road. Just ahead, past a two-story farmhouse with blue siding and white shutters, the grocer stood illuminated by a pair of yellow streetlamps.

Bright paint decorated the glowing, storefront windows in a summer mural of colorful flowers and a corny depiction of a smiling sun. A shingled awning stretched over a wooden porch that wrapped around the sides of the small store, and by all appearances, the grocer had once been someone’s home.

As usual, Cade went first, motioning for everyone to stay put until he’d crossed the highway and ducked into the shadows at the corner of the building. Denny followed next, moving quicker than his fragile appearance would suggest he could. Once Greg and Brody had joined them, Nevah stepped out of the tree line, her gaze cautious and alert as she started across the street.

Roux crouched in the bushes, sliding her utility knife from its sheath as she listened for Nevah’s footsteps to fade. The humidity of the day paired with the falling temperatures of the night produced a hazy fog that covered the ground and swirled around her feet. A light mist had begun to fall, and while it wouldn’t wash away the weeks of dirt and grime, Roux closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the cool water against her skin.

The crunch of gravel reached her ears, meaning Nevah had reached the grocer’s parking lot. Rising from her position, Roux kept low, checking her surroundings once again before stepping around the neatly trimmed hedge. She’d just stepped across the white line on the edge of the asphalt when a scream pierced the air.

Denny
.

A lump formed in her throat as her heart pounded a hard rhythm against her sternum. Torn between helping her group and saving her own ass, Roux stood frozen, one foot still planted on the street. She’d never proclaimed to be brave, and it wasn’t as though she could do anything useful. More than likely, she’d only end up dead, or worse…captured. Better to be dead than what awaited her in the city.

Against her better judgment and all of her instincts, Roux released the breath she’d been holding and darted across the highway. Instead of a direct route to the grocer, however, she veered to the left, slipping into the darkness cast along the side of the farmhouse. Another cry rose up on the wind, this one deeper, more guttural, and Roux instantly recognized it as Cade’s.

A line of peach trees separated the residential home from the small store, its low-hanging branches creating a perfect swath of shadows. Gathering her courage, Roux pushed away from the side of the house and hurried across the sodden grass to the nearest tree, just as the rain began to fall in earnest. With her back pressed against the wide trunk, she paused, fighting to control her rapid breathing.

“Your plan is what, exactly?” a low, masculine voice asked from somewhere in the darkness to her right. “Rescue your friends armed with a single knife and determination?”

Roux couldn’t see the owner of the voice, not even a silhouette, but she knew he was close, much too close. She couldn’t outrun him, not by returning to the forest, anyway. He’d expect that. If she had any hope of escape, she’d have to outsmart him, but to do that, she needed to know where he was.

Gripping the handle of her knife hard enough to make her knuckles ache, Roux swallowed past the constriction in her throat. “Who are you?” she demanded, grateful her voice didn’t break and betray her fear. “Where are my friends?”

“Your friends are alive…for now.”

His answer definitely came from the right, two maybe three trees away. “Who are you?” Roux repeated.

“Does it matter?”

She could barely hear him over the rain that plopped against the treetops, but he sounded closer when he spoke, much too close for her comfort. No light—artificial or natural—penetrated the darkness beneath the canopy, and she still couldn’t find him in the shadows.

“You should run,” he whispered, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.

Reacting on instinct, not giving fear time to paralyze her, Roux pivoted on the ball of her right foot and swung her arm out to the side with enough force to make her elbow crack. When the blade of her knife encountered only air, she dropped into a half-crouch and held her breath. The guy moved like a fucking ghost, there one minute, gone the next, and she couldn’t hear a damn thing.

“You’re not running,” her stalker taunted, his voice coming from directly behind her as his fingertips brushed over her bare shoulder.

Instead of turning, Roux jerked both elbows back, satisfied when she heard her attacker grunt in pain as she connected squarely with a wall of muscle. Following the momentum, she threw her head back, groaning when the impact with his sternum made her vision blurry. She didn’t stop fighting, though, swinging her knife down and back to where she estimated his thigh to be. Again, she found only emptiness.

Strong, callused fingers encircled her wrist, squeezing the bones until her hand went numb and her only weapon tumbled to the ground. Still, she wouldn’t admit defeat, not while she remained standing. Instead of trying to jerk away, she bent her knees and pushed up from the soaked ground, driving her shoulder into her captor. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to make such a bold move, because he lost his footing in the slippery mud and toppled over, dragging Roux to the ground with him.

Landing atop his massive chest—fuck, the guy was huge—Roux rolled to the left, wrenching her arm free of his loosened grasp. The instant her feet hit the ground, she was running, sprinting out of the row of peach trees, back toward the highway and the forest beyond.

Rain poured from the heavens, saturating her clothes and seeping into her worn hiking boots as she splashed through the rising puddles. Black, ominous clouds dimmed the light from the moon, but the inkiness of the night wouldn’t conceal her. Now that she’d been seen, Roux had nowhere to run, no place to hide where she wouldn’t be followed.

Even as the thought slithered through her consciousness, a hard, muscled body tackled her from behind, sending them both sprawling into the mud. The attack knocked the air from her lungs, and Roux’s ribs ached, protesting the weight against her back. Water splashed up from the ground, covering her face and filling her open mouth as she struggled to free herself from the monster’s unshakable hold.

Then the heaviness vanished from her back, and long fingers dug into her biceps, lifting her easily from the ground.

“I’m going to let you go,” her captor said, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re not going to run again, and you’re not going to scream. Got it?”

Panic choked her, but Roux fisted her hands at her sides and nodded. He could have killed her a dozen times by now, and the fact that he hadn’t frightened her more than even the promise of a slow, torturous death. More likely, he’d drag her into the city where she’d be imprisoned, allowed out of her cage only to serve as a vampire’s blood bag or a werewolf’s whore. They’d use her until nothing remained, until not only her body, but her mind and spirit had been ruined, shattered beyond recognition or repair.

“Good.” His grip relaxed, but he didn’t fully release her. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them. Nod if you understand.”

Roux nodded again, slower this time. She’d answer his questions, but she hadn’t agreed to answer them honestly. When he applied pressure to her shoulder, she didn’t resist, but turned to face him readily.

Her original assessment of his size hadn’t been far off the mark. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blotting out most of the light from the streetlamps. Sweet Jesus, he had to be at least a foot taller than her, and the wet cotton of his plain, black T-shirt clung to every hard ridge of muscle.

With his face shadowed, she couldn’t make out many features—not the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw. His short hair looked dark, maybe black, but between the rain and the lack of adequate light, Roux couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered. Knowing what he looked like wouldn’t save her.

“Good,” he praised her again. “Let me give you a little piece of advice before we begin.” He stepped closer, crowding her, then bent to press his lips against her ear. “Do. Not. Lie.” Though spoken barely louder than a breath, each word rang in her ears as if he’d shouted them. “I don’t like being lied to, female, and I promise, you won’t enjoy the consequences. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” Roux bit out, clenching her teeth so tightly her jaw ached.

With a rumble—like a growl, but gentler somehow—the beast jerked away from her so quickly, she barely saw him move. He circled, prowling around her, his footsteps light and soundless. Then he stopped in front of her again, his head tilted at a curious angle as if assessing her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.” She wouldn’t lie, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, either.

“Careful,” he warned. “There’s a narrow line between bravery and stupidity.”