Kicking It (9 page)

Simone woke in the arms of the creature that had killed her husband. Maybe it wasn’t the specific one who’d drained Jeremy of his life, but a detail like that hardly mattered right now.

The Fractogast’s skin was rough, like heavy-duty sandpaper. There was no give, no cushion to its limbs, and they were cool to the touch. It gave off the faint smell of burning hair, and each small shift of its body made a low crunching sound that set her teeth on edge.

She’d never been this close to one before, and now that she was, she was reevaluating her initial opinion that they were beautiful creatures.

In a distant part of her brain that was just now waking up, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. Pissed off? Yes. Disgusted? Big yes. But there was no fear.

What could this creature do to her that was any worse than taking from her the man she loved, and killing their unborn child? Everything she loved had been stolen. All the thing could do now was kill her, and that was a pale comparison to the hell she’d already endured.

Her head throbbed. She felt the wet trickle of blood cooling along her hairline. A slow pitch and roll of nausea sloshed in her gut.

She tried to sit up to ease the queasiness, but the ’Gast’s grip on her throat kept her immobile.

“Simone?” came a voice she recognized.

Brighton. He was across the room on the platform, that hammer raised in threat.

“Hold on. I’ll get us out of here.” Confidence rang in his tone, making her laugh at the ridiculousness of his claim.

“Yeah, you get right on that. I’ll just be here, hanging out.”

The ’Gast holding her screeched, and gave her a hard shake. Her head nearly split apart with the sound.

“You leave her the fuck alone,” warned Brighton. “You hurt her and your precious machine will be in pieces before you can stop me.”

The machine—the one that was going to let more of these murderous Fractogasts crawl through. It was glowing and whirring like it had been fired up.

More people would die. More husbands. More children.

Like hell.

A fiery wave of anger burst in her chest, clearing away the fog that had left her passive and compliant. No way was she going to let these things win. Sure, maybe the idea of dying didn’t scare her that much, but what about that kid they’d saved? What about his mother? His father? They were afraid of death. They all had something to lose.

There were a lot of happy families out there, and Simone wasn’t going to let even one more of them get ripped apart by these creatures the way hers had.

She shifted in the Fractogast’s grip, moving just enough to reach the knife in her purse. She didn’t know if these things had a soft spot, but she was going to find out.

The ’Gast’s beady eyes were fixed on Brighton, like he was the only threat in the room. From somewhere across the space, she heard another of those grating screams, but the warning came too late.

She plunged her knife up, aiming for the ’Gast’s throat, right under its chin. The blade barely penetrated the skin, but it was enough of a shock to make the thing drop her like a hot rock.

Simone hit the ground hard. She tried to roll away, but the blow to the head had left her dizzy and clumsy. Instead of getting out of the range of those giant feet, she managed to make it only about two yards before she rolled right into the body of the old woman.

The shadow of the Fractogast’s foot passed over her. Brighton shouted her name in frantic warning.

Simone slipped another knife from her boot and leveled it just as the platter-sized foot came crashing down.

The blade skewered its foot, shoving the butt of the knife into her chest.

One of her ribs cracked. The ’Gast reeled back and toppled over. It landed in a pile of discarded metal. Something snapped as loud as a tree branch breaking.

When she looked, she saw that the ’Gast was still. Dead or disabled. She really didn’t care so long as it wasn’t coming after her anymore.

Two more of the things surged forward.

Brighton yelled, “Stop!” at them, raising his hammer a few more inches in warning.

They stopped.

“You’re going to run, Simone. The boots will make you fast. Hide you. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’m not leaving you behind again.”

“Just go. Now.”

She’d already left him once to get the kid out. She could have kept running then, but something in her—something she had thought long dead—forced her to turn around. There was still some life left in her. Some goodness. Some fight.

A whole lot of fight.

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying. Bloody hair fell into her eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. Every bit of strength she had left she needed to kill these fuckers.

Safety net number two was still in the purse. “Boom incoming.”

“What are you doing?” asked Brighton. “Get out of here.”

“I’m improvising. Be ready to run.”

“I’m not leaving until this machine is disabled.”

“We’ll disable it after we leave.”

“Explosives?” he asked. “It might not work.”

“Explosives always work.” If she used enough of them.

“It took a magic hammer to build this thing. It may also take magic to destroy it.”

“I’m all out of magical C-4. Sorry. We’ll have to take our chances.”

“Not this time, Simone. I’m sorry.” With that apology hanging in the air, he slammed the hammer down onto the machine.

Both Fractogasts screeched in fury and lunged forward.

Simone ran toward Brighton as she flung one of her throwing knives at the ’Gast in front. The blade bounced off its skin, but its attention shifted to her.

Brighton swung the hammer again, only this time, the machine’s pitch rose as if it were speeding up. Flickering lights inside the oddly shaped ring began to glow brighter, turning the charging ’Gasts’ skin to rainbows.

The effect sent a wave of dizziness spinning in her skull. She grabbed the edge of the raised platform where Brighton stood to steady herself. He was nearly within her reach now, but he was also in reach of the ’Gasts.

“Behind you!” she yelled.

Brighton ducked just as a massive backswing came whooshing in. The blow knocked the hammer from his hand and sent it flying her way.

Simone jumped, going higher than she ever could have without the magical aid of the boots. The hammer hit her in the chest, causing a flicker of pain to light up her brain.

Something in there was definitely broken.

When she landed, the pain made her stumble, but she held on to the hot hammer.

The machine’s whir became a scream. The spinning lights spun faster.

Brighton rolled off the platform and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet and out of the way of the next swinging blow.

One ’Gast was at the machine, its big hands moving in a desperate attempt to fix the damage Brighton had done. The other was coming for them, too fast for them to get away.

They backed up to where the dead Fractogast was sprawled.

Brighton ripped the knives from its skin and handed them to her as they kept backing away. “Give me the hammer.”

“You’re not going back up there.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

They squeezed between the wall and a metal shipping container. The ’Gast tried to reach them, but even its long arms weren’t long enough.

Simone stepped forward and stabbed at its fingers, just to give it pause.

“I won’t let you kill yourself,” she told him.

“Better me than someone else.”

“I’ve got a brick of C-4 in my pouch, all rigged and ready to blow. Let that do the work while we run like hell.”

“If I was sure it would work, I’d be all for it.”

The ’Gast tried again to reach them, this time from the opposite side. Brighton pulled her out of the way just in time to stop it from grabbing her by the hair.

He pulled the C-4 from her purse. She was too busy fending off the ’Gast to stop him, and hadn’t bothered to use the purse’s magic to hide it from him.

Within seconds, he had the hammer attached to the brick of explosives with a discarded length of wire. “I wish I had some duct tape, but this will have to do.”

He tucked the slim detonator in her pocket. “When I yell, blow it up.”

“Oh, no. I’m not blowing you up. You want to do this? We go together.”

She grabbed his hand and willed the boots to cloak them from sight. Then she pushed him out from behind the shipping container.

The ’Gast trying to cop a feel had its head turned away to extend its reach. It didn’t see that they were gone until they were halfway across the room.

Neither of them said anything as they hurried toward the screaming machine. Not that their voices would have been heard over that horrible sound.

The ’Gast by the control panel was still working as fast as its lumbering arms could go, but there was a change in its demeanor. There was no longer the quivering haste of fear. Instead, the thing was moving with excitement.

Brighton hadn’t destroyed the machine after all.

Through the oddly shaped ring and flickering lights, she could see movement. The space in the middle of the ring was darker than the rest of the room. The bloody glow of red lights didn’t touch it. Even so, she could see a mass of elongated arms and legs, sparkling with tiny crystals.

There were Fractogasts waiting on the other side of wherever that machine led. Lots of them.

As they approached, one spindly arm reached through the center of the ring.

A clicking cheer rose up, louder than the machine’s screeching parts.

The doorway was open.

Brighton ducked under that hand and jammed the brick of C-4 beneath the bottom edge of the ring. The hammer was wedged against the flickering metal, ready to become magical shrapnel.

A long leg appeared from the ring, and then a foot landed only inches from Brighton.

Simone tugged on his hand. If they didn’t go now, one of those things was going to step on them.

They jumped off the platform, coming face-to-gut with the ’Gast that had been trying to reach them.

She wasn’t going to be able to avoid a collision. There wasn’t time.

Brighton grabbed her around the middle and spun her away from the thing’s path. She had no idea how he’d managed the feat, but his grip shifted her broken rib and set her chest on fire.

A startled gasp escaped her chest.

The ’Gast halted in midstride and turned around. The few shells that had finally shambled back after being distracted by the blast headed their way.

“Run,” whispered Brighton.

She was still wheezing, unsure if she could make her body obey her commands. Not that it mattered much. Brighton was hauling her out with one arm, practically lifting her off the ground.

Her chest burned. Each labored breath was like a knife stabbing her side.

He looked over his shoulder, and she could feel the change in his stride. He went faster, forcing her to come along.

“Trigger the bomb,” he ordered.
“Now.”

She looked back and saw spewing from the ring a steady stream of Fractogasts. More than she could count. Their limbs melded together like a pile of rainbow-colored pickup sticks.

They were clumped up, nice and close. But they wouldn’t be for long.

She fumbled with one hand to find the trigger in her pocket. With a flip of the safety cap and a single press of the button, the room behind them exploded.

Simone flew forward, going airborne. Brighton’s weight was at her back, and a second later it was
on
her back.

Her head bounced once on the concrete floor, and all the lights went out.

Two weeks later

Marcus winced in pain as he shifted his bag of groceries to unlock the back door to his RV. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but each day was a little better. He kept wondering if Simone was healing, too. Every attempt he’d made to contact her had failed.

A warm breeze grazed his skin, bringing with it the scent of spring. The isolated piece of land he owned wasn’t much, but it gave him a place to park, a faint sense of home, and room to work in peace. No one knew where he lived, which was exactly the way he liked it.

He pushed through the door and set his groceries down near the fridge.

“Hey,” came a sexy, feminine voice with just a hint of a rasp to it.

There, lying on his narrow bed, with her back against his headboard and her stolen boots crossed at the ankle, was Simone.

Marcus paused in the act of reaching for the refrigerator’s handle, letting his shock settle.

She looked good. Safe. And sexy as hell garbed in a clinging leather bodice and complete confidence.

He hadn’t been allowed to see her after dropping her off at the hospital. He could tell by the way the staff was looking at him that they thought he’d been the one to beat her up. In a way they were right, which only added to how guilty he looked.

By the time they’d finished patching him up and he’d evaded all the questions he could about what had happened to them, she was gone. Against medical advice.

He was still angry over her leaving him to worry, and it came out in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Unfinished business.”

Anger evaporated as a string of interesting thoughts slipped through his mind, each one more inappropriate than the last. He didn’t normally let himself veer off into the gutter like that, but then again, most women weren’t built like Simone Solange—for both speed and comfort.

She slid from his bed, the move far too slow and sinuous for his peace of mind. Even with the faint bruises marring her cheek, and the pinkish scar along her hairline, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And probably the most dangerous.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

She smiled, and her appeal went to eleven. “Not important.” She grabbed a box sitting on his bedside table and sauntered into the main cabin. “Here. This is yours.”

Marcus took the box, uncertain if he wanted to open it. After what he’d put her through, he couldn’t imagine there being anything good inside.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Nope. I’m not in the mood to fight a pile of poisonous snakes right now.”

She frowned. “You think I want to hurt you?”

“I got you hurt when I coerced you to take the job.”

She snorted. “Coerced? You’re good, but you’re not that good.” She opened the box, pulled from it the purse he’d made and shoved it at him. “Here. Take it back.”

“What? Why?”

“The purse for the hammer. That was the deal. No hammer, no purse.”

“Wait. You stole the boots outright and won’t give those back, but I give you a purse for risking your life and you return it?”

“I earned the boots. Stole them fair and square. And the one knife. The other two are in there.”

Frustration rubbed along his skin, not because she’d taken one of the knives his dad had made, but because she was completely insane. “Really? That makes sense to you?”

She shrugged, and the motion drew his attention to the line of her neck. A few bruises lingered there, too, reminding him of just how terrified he’d been when that Fractogast had grabbed her by the throat. “You lost something precious to you. If I’d been better, it wouldn’t have happened. Every time I look at the purse it’s going to remind me of how I failed.”

He took the cool leather in his hands. He’d spent so many hours working on it, his fingers tingled in memory. It was like that sometimes, with his best work—almost like the object recognized him.

Marcus looped the strap of the purse over her head. “Just take it. And when you look at it, remember how you saved that kid. How we got out alive. How we blew that machine up beyond repair.”

“But the hammer is gone.”

“And will never again be used by those fuckers. I’m okay with that.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then get over it, because I’m not taking the purse back. I made it for you. I want you to have it, even if you have to consider it a gift.”

“A gift, huh?” She ran her finger over the pattern he’d tooled into the leather.

What he wouldn’t have given to have her stroke him like that.

“It’s been a long time since anyone has given me anything.”

“Good, then. It’s settled.” At least he hoped. “Want to stay for dinner?”

She froze, shedding all her natural, fluid warmth. “I don’t think so. Places to go and all that.”

He’d scared her. With an invitation to dinner. After watching her face down a room full of Fractogasts, that seemed inconceivable.

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” No matter how much willpower it cost him.

She stared up at him, biting her bottom lip. He could see her quivering on the edge of giving in, but as soon as her eyes lowered, he knew he’d lost. “I should go. Rain check?”

“Sure. You obviously know how to find me.”

“Thanks for the purse. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t. After the beating you took, we’re more than even.”

Her smoky green gaze hit him again, and this time he actually swayed with the force of it. She was so unbelievably beautiful it made him forget that the rest of the world even existed.

Simone looped her arms around his neck, went up on tiptoe, and pressed a kiss against his lips. It lasted only a second, and it was completely chaste, but it still felt scorching hot and rocked him down to his boots.

His lips tingled, and he felt a stirring of power lingering just beneath his skin.

When she was done shifting the ground under his feet, she let go and took a small step back. “I always repay my debts, Brighton. Call me if you need me.”

“I don’t have your number. It took me weeks to find you last time. If you hadn’t responded to my online messages—”

She pressed one slender finger against his lips. “Call my name. I’ll hear you. You’re not the only one with special talents, you know.”

That’s when he realized what she’d done. That kiss had left him with a gift—the ability to summon her.

Marcus was blown away by her trust. “You sure you want to give me such power?”

She moved past him, heading toward the door. “Too late now. Just give me a few weeks for the rib to heal before you run into trouble again, okay?”

She left the RV, and it suddenly felt empty. Too empty.

He hurried down the steps, around to the back side of the RV, where she’d parked her motorcycle out of sight, and held out his hand. “Give it back.”

A look of complete, shocked innocence covered her lovely face. “What?”

“The belt you stole.”

She gave him a slow, sexy smile as she fished the belt out from the back of her tight bodice. “You’re catching on, Brighton. There might be hope for you yet.”