Rebel Heat (3 page)

Dread knotted her stomach and she tried even harder to look around. Each step he took drove his shoulder into her abdomen, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to see clearly. He opened the back door of the car and tossed her onto the seat. She quickly bent her knees, keeping the door from smacking her feet as he slammed it shut behind her. Then he hurried around to the other side of the car and slid onto the driver’s seat.

“What did you do with the driver?” Accusation sliced through her tone.

“I snapped her neck and tossed her body in a ditch, of course.” He paused long enough to adjust the mirror so she could see his glare then set the car in motion. “She’s unconscious, yet otherwise unharmed. I even moved her well off to the side of the road so no one will run her over.”

He was the criminal, so why did she feel guilty for thinking the worst of him?

She was no longer bound to the seat, so she was able to squirm onto her side. From there she wiggled toward the edge of the seat then threw her weight sideways as she tightened her abdominal muscles. It was awkward as hell, but she was finally sitting. More of her shoulder-length hair had come free from the tidy bun. She blew a strand out of her eyes and looked around. There was nothing to see, open road and miles and miles of empty desert.

“Disappointed?”

It was impossible to miss the mockery in his tone. The jerk was laughing at her. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

What did that mean? Had he not decided on a destination or was he waiting for someone else to provide one? If he was waiting for Sevrin to direct him, he might have a long wait. If phase two went off as planned, Sevrin should be in custody shortly.

She wiggled around a bit more, leaning against the door until she found a relatively comfortable position.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.” The strange statement drew her attention back to Nazerel and she found him driving with one hand as he held what looked like a cell phone with the other. It hadn’t taken him long to adjust to life on Earth. “All right. I’m sorry it’s so
early
. This can’t wait for a more appropriate hour.”

The other person spoke again, but Morgan couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“I understand.”

Nazerel nodded as the other person continued.

“All of that is acceptable, but I have additional requirements.” After a short pause, Nazerel continued in a language Morgan didn’t understand. She tensed. He had to be talking about her. What else could he mean and why switch languages? Would he leave her with someone else while he made the ransom demands? Did he even know how to contact her people without giving himself away? He’d managed to stay a step ahead of everyone ever since he arrived on Earth. She could not underestimate him. That would be lethal.

Nazerel chuckled then muttered, “Something like that. I appreciate your help.” Then he set down the phone.

How long could he hope to outrun the authorities in a stolen car? His fast thinking might have bought him an hour or two, but that was all.

Instead of criticizing his strategy, she asked, “What do you hope to accomplish by kidnapping me?”

“I’ll offer your safe return in exchange for being released from this collar.”

“Can’t you just cut it off?” If he damaged the collar in any way, it released an electric charge that made a Taser seem tame, but she wasn’t sure if he knew that.

“I would be incapacitated or killed depending on the model.” His dark gaze clashed with hers in the mirror then he looked back at the road. “I likely know more about this device than you do. My father was Rodyte after all.”

His father was Rodyte. Did that mean he didn’t think of himself as Rodyte? Interesting.

They lapsed into silence again as he drove on through the early morning haze. The dossier she had on Nazerel hadn’t contained many images, but the few she did have hadn’t begun to capture the intensity of his presence. She’d expected him to be large and muscular, all the Shadow Assassins were, but there was a strength of character in his features that the images hadn’t reflected and the collar couldn’t suppress.

She was doing it again, granting him nobility when he deserved scorn.

“They can’t turn you lose, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to kill me, so I’m afraid this is a waste of time.”

“What I want to do and what I’m willing to do are often different things.” Conviction rang through his tone and a shiver tingled down Morgan’s spine.

Maybe she better leave well enough alone. At least for now. Unless she was ready to die, there wasn’t much she could do to sabotage him at highway speeds. “If I promise to behave, will you release my hands or at least tie them in front of me? This is killing my back.”

His gaze narrowed as he considered his options then he shook his head. “Not yet. And you need to lie back down or I’ll have to blindfold you.”

“With your socks?”

An unexpected smile flashed across his features and then vanished. She’s barely registered the transformation before it disappeared, but the image lingered in her mind. His dark eyes shimmered and his harsh, angular features softened, well as much as anything about Nazerel could be described as soft. He looked years younger and infinitely more attractive. Attractive? Had she just thought of Nazerel as attractive? The awkward position must be cutting off the oxygen to her brain.

“I mean it. Lie down.” He looked in the mirror to make sure she obeyed. “I’ll secure you more comfortably when we switch vehicles.”

So that was what the call had been about. He’d arranged for an untainted vehicle. Damn. That would make them even harder to find. But who had Nazerel called? All of her information indicated that Sevrin was the one with all the human contacts; that the Shadow Assassins were basically at her mercy. Either Morgan’s information was wrong or phase two of their plan had failed. Unfortunately, the only one who knew for sure was Nazerel and he wasn’t likely to tell her.

Left with no other option but to endure the discomfort and uncertainty, she stared at the back of his seat and concentrated on not throwing up.

The sun had risen well above the horizon by the time Nazerel reached the exchange point. Not much of a destination really, just an emergency pull-over lane on the side of the highway. Phil Mortsen had already arrived and the compact SUV in which he sat looked perfect for what Nazerel had in mind.

“Why’d we stop?”

He unfastened his seat belt and looked at Morgan. She’d been asleep for over an hour and still sounded groggy. Exhaustion and boredom were a potent combination. “Stay down and keep quiet. If you obey, for once, I’ll allow you to sit up after the exchange.”

She looked as if she’d argue then released a loud sigh and returned her head to the seat of their borrowed car. Though she was no longer bound to the seat, her arms and legs were restrained, so she shouldn’t be able to cause too much trouble. With lingering reluctance, Nazerel left her alone in the car and went to speak with Phil.

Phil swung his door open and unfolded his tall, thin body from inside the SUV. With medium brown hair and common brown eyes, Phil went out of his way to appear ordinary, forgettable, and mistakably human. The Bilarrian trader had been recommended to Nazerel by a trusted friend before he left Ontariese. Phil was known for locating the unusual, arranging the impossible, and the exorbitant prices he charged for his miracles. All of that had been well and good, but what convinced Nazerel to contact Phil had been his reputation for keeping secrets.

Sevrin had been careless in many ways because of her belief that he was utterly dependent upon her. Such had never been the case. Nazerel had carefully crafted plan B long before he accepted her invitation to join her on Earth. He had hoped Sevrin would live up to her promises, had proceeded as if he believed every word she told him, but in secret he nurtured a few strategic contacts and Phil was one of them. It hadn’t taken long for Nazerel to realize the precautions had been wise. Sevrin was a lying, self-serving bitch who wanted to exploit the unique physiology of Shadow Assassins.

“Greetings First Son of South,” Phil said with a friendly smile.

“I’m Nazerel Southmor now and we’re beyond such formality.” They shook hands and Nazerel returned his smile.

“The provisions you ordered are packed in the vehicle and your special order is in here.” He held out his hand, a plastic bag dangling from his fingers by the handles.

Nazerel accepted the bag and quickly looked through its contents. He took out the mist dispenser and asked, “How long will the sedative last?”

“Depends on the size of the person.”

“Athletic human female.”

“Around eight hours.”

Something behind Nazerel caught Phil’s attention, so Nazerel turned around to see what had distracted him. Morgan’s shiny red hair was clearly visible between the two front seats. She had one shoulder braced against the back of the seat as she looked around. He better make this quick. His feisty prisoner was getting restless.

He turned back to Phil, continuing on as if neither of them had seen anything unusual. “Eight hours?” Phil nodded. That should give him plenty of time to reach his destination and set up camp before Morgan became a problem again. “And there are no side effects?”

“It’s harmless and effective. We’ve used it on Bilarri for decades.” He motioned toward the bag. “I loaded one of the sedative cartridges for you, but there are several other varieties included as well, analgesic, antibiotic, antitoxin.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how long you planned to be tromping around in the woods.”

“Not long enough to need any of that, but I appreciate the thought.”

“All right then. Obviously your transfer of funds was successful or I wouldn’t be here.”

The sizable fortune Nazerel had brought with him from Ontariese was another advantage of which Sevrin was unaware. He had guarded every word and expression to make sure no one realized he could sever their arrangement at any moment and just walk away. Not even his men knew. He hadn’t been willing to risk Sevrin finding out about his deception. It would have been utter folly to follow her to a strange planet without any means of providing for his needs and the needs of his men.

“Disposal of the car was included,” Phil told him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Everything seems to be in order for now, but how are plans for off-world transportation going?”

“Things were much easier when you could open a portal yourself. Any hope that you’ll free yourself from the collar before you’re ready to depart?”

“It’s my top priority, but you better make arrangements for either situation.”

“Of course. It’s more complicated without your abilities, but I’ve arranged this sort of thing before. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two. Do you have a final head count yet?”

“I don’t. Is that important?”

“Not really. Smugglers prefer smaller groups, but I can accomplish most anything.”

Nazerel smiled. “I noticed.”

“I’ll contact you when everything is in place.”

“Wonderful and I appreciate the fast delivery on this. I look forward to doing business with you again.” Nazerel motioned toward the car. “Give me a minute to move my belongings.”

Phil flashed a conspirator’s smile. “Would you like me to assist you with that?”

“No need.”

Nazerel slipped his arm through the handles on the bag as he returned to the car. He opened the door by Morgan’s head. She looked up at him and he pressed the button on the top of the mister. She gasped as the cloud of mist hit her face, which was the intention of the design. Her eyes blinked and she sputtered, but the drug became more effective with each indignant breath.

Scooping her up in his arms like a child, Nazerel pulled her from the car and walked to the passenger side of the SUV. Phil had opened the door for him but then quickly turned away. His customers expected discretion and Phil never failed to provide. Nazerel set Morgan down on the seat then straightened. “We’re good. You don’t need to stick around.”

Phil needed no other prompting. “Until next time.” He climbed into the stolen car and drove away.

Anxious to resume his voyage, Nazerel freed Morgan’s wrists and drew her hands in front of her. It was unlikely she’d regain consciousness, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He took out the velvet-lined cuffs and couldn’t help but smile. These would be much easier on her skin than the plastic strips, but she would likely find them even more provoking. He enjoyed annoying her. Her soft ivory skin flushed and her sky-blue eyes gleamed when she was angry. It made him hunger for the feel of her arching beneath him, rubbing her soft curves against his chest.

But such distractions needed to wait until they were in a safer location. He buckled the cuffs around her wrists then secured the buckles with a tiny padlock. A small length of chain connected the cuffs and it could be fastened with a matching padlock. Instead of bothering with the third lock, he wove the seat belt through her arms further restricting her movements. Last he located the lever for the seat back and adjusted the angle until she rested more comfortably.

With his passenger once again secured, he moved to the driver’s side and climbed in behind the wheel. He took his phone out of his pocket and launched the security program for the Team South house. He’d already checked the camera feeds twice, but he couldn’t stop hoping the images would change. Room after room scrolled across his screen, each one the same. Overturned furniture and blast marks on walls, but each room was empty. The only thing that gave him hope was the complete lack of blood. It was unlikely anyone had died in the battle, but were his men fugitives, scattered to the wind, or prisoners of the Mystic Militia?

He could do nothing to assist his men if he was caught. So escape must be his top priority. Freeing himself from the suppression collar was equally important, like it or not, that was where his prisoner became useful.

With a six-hour drive ahead of him, there was no reason to delay. He sighed at the thought. How did humans tolerate the excruciating pace of automobile travel? He plugged his phone into the power adapter and then connected it to the radio. Flynn had introduced him to a genre of music called Grunge. Nazerel found many things about humans strange, but he was fascinated by their music. Something about the distorted guitars and angst-filled voices struck a common chord within his soul. He found his longest playlist and set it on shuffle. Hopefully that would help fill the empty hours.

* * * * *

Morgan woke up slowly, drifting back to consciousness as if she were trudging through mud. She was no longer moving. In fact she was flat on her back on something relatively soft. Her legs were no longer bent and her arms were extended above her head. There was no way she was still in a car.

She tried to move her arms, but her body felt weighted, sluggish. Or she was bound! Her eyes flew open and fear cleared her mind. She tugged against whatever was holding her hands. The bite of the zip tie was gone, but the new bindings held her firmly. She twisted her head, hoping to unravel the mystery. Her hair had come loose from its neat bun and now spread across her arms, covering her hands. She drew up her knees, thrilled to discover her legs weren’t tied down. But the next revelation was even more upsetting. She wore only her bra and panties. The bastard had even removed her boots and socks. Was he simply trying to discourage her from running away or had his motives been more licentious?

Refusing to panic, she looked around. She was in a mid-size camping tent and her bed was several unzipped sleeping bags. There was a cooler near the entrance and two large crates loaded with supplies. Where the hell was she? Her throat tightened and her mouth dried up as her heartbeat echoed in her ears. It looked as if he intended to keep her here for quite some time, but where was here?

She closed her eyes and held perfectly still, forcing on audible clues. The buzzing of insects reached her first then the distant call of a bird. There were no city sounds, no engines or car horns. They were definitely secluded, but she couldn’t tell more without seeing outside.

The tent smelled a bit stale and she detected something else as well. Smoke, faint and pleasant, like the telltale scent of a campfire. How long had she been out? More importantly, was Nazerel arrogant enough to use a public campground? She opened her eyes and turned her head toward the zippered opening that served as a door. There was one easy way to find out.

She took a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could. When no one immediately responded she screamed again.

Mocking her with each lazy movement, Nazerel made his way inside the tent. He even took time to lower the zipper before he turned to face her again. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

The smug bastard looked amused not concerned. “Where the hell are we and why am I still tied up?” Not to mention nearly naked!

“Our location isn’t important—though screaming is obviously a waste of breath—and you’re still bound because you defy me at every turn.”

“I’m your prisoner. Of course, I defy you. Humans don’t do well in captivity.”

He actually smiled. The jerk. “I think with the right master you’ll do just fine in captivity.”

She gasped at his boast, which was probably what he wanted. “You’re not my master. You’re not
my
anything.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re my prisoner until I see fit to release you.”

It was a little hard to argue with that while she was flat on her back and tied up to boot. She couldn’t hope to best him in a physical confrontation, she had to think, strategize. “I need some water.”

His head tilted and his brow arched. “Ask me nicely.”

Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. Defying him now only punished herself, but she was seriously tempted. “May I please have some water?”

Sauntering over to the plastic crates, he rummaged around for a moment and found a bottle of water. He twisted off the top and took a leisurely drink before approaching the makeshift bed. “If you kick me, I’ll restrain your legs. If you spit on me at any time for any reason, you forfeit the rest of your clothes.” He bent to one knee beside her and slipped his arm under her shoulders. Lifting her slightly, he brought the bottle to her lips and let her drink her fill.

The time for anger was past. She couldn’t escape him as long as she was bound and virtually naked. Despite her very real need to “defy him at every turn”, it was more important to earn his trust and find, or create, an opportunity to get the hell away from him. “So what will it take for you to ‘see fit to release’ me?”

He just stared at her for a moment, his arm warm and solid against her back. “I told you what I wanted before we left.” After lowering her to the bedding, he stood and returned the half-empty bottle to the crate. “Your freedom for mine.”

She shook her head despite her pounding heart. “They will never—”

“Cut the bullshit, Morgan.” His expression turned fierce as he faced her. “You’re director of the taskforce, which means you
own
this collar.” She felt her eyes widen and quickly relaxed her lids. “Yes, I know how it works. Anyone can close the collar, but only the owner can open it. There is no ‘they’ involved in this negotiation. It’s between you and me. Release me from the collar and I’ll release you from my tender care.”