E j deen, p.15
E. J. Deen, page 15
Zach almost smiled at the defiant tilt to her chin, and only just managed not to. “What was it that your brother always told you?”
Her eyebrows came together in a frown. “He always told me to cover my tracks.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is. And I happen to think it’s very good advice.”
Zach glanced at the two dead men at his feet. “I think the best advice under the circumstances is for both of us to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.”
“But….” she started to protest.
“Look,” he growled, glaring at her. “If you want to touch these two plague-infested rodents—
apparently, your brother didn’t teach you much about the plague—you’re welcome to it. But I don’t care to handle them. And I happen to know that no one gives two shits about these vermin. No one will even miss them. Will you?”
She blinked a few times, taken aback by his harsh words and bitter tone. Before she could answer, Zach turned away. Arguing with the woman was pure foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered so long. But the woman intrigued him, and it had been a long time since a woman had gotten his attention. So damn long.
His interest angered him. He’d never put himself at such risk over something so ridiculous, and he hated to think he’d discovered a weakness, a flaw in his character. He’d thought he wasn’t like other men, willing to risk anything for a quick lay. Not that getting laid was his intent. To the contrary. There was just something about her, and his reaction to the vixen disturbed him. He’d thought himself stronger than that.
“I did my part,” he said over his shoulder as he melted into the darkness of the surrounding forest.
“Wait,” she called. “Let me go with you.”
Zach heard her, but he didn’t bother to stop. He had no intention of obliging her. He didn’t need the added burden of a helpless female tagging along behind him. Besides which, she had her brother. Let him take care of her.
*
Miles away from the seedy little bar, Zach made his camp in the safety of a dense forest. It had been two nights since he’d left the bar, and the woman. He hadn’t allowed himself to slow down for very long. There was too much risk involved. He had to assume that at least one of the drunks he’d
cultivated would remember his scarred face. They might start to talk, to wonder where their gravy train had gone. He’d been a free booze ticket for a few nights, and they would miss the drinks, so he’d put as much distance between himself and the bar as he could.
His camp was little more than a stopping point. He didn’t even light a fire. He just hid his weapons in some brush nearby and propped himself against a tree for a light sleep. Like always, it didn’t take long for trouble to find him.
He jerked awake in the middle of the night to the sound of a twig snapping. Anyone else wouldn’t have caught the noise, but he was so accustomed to being alert, to hearing the least little break in the normal pattern of the forest around him that he was instantly on guard. He was about to open his eyes a slight crack to assess the situation when he felt a cold blade being pressed to his throat. He froze, waiting.
He’d been in so many dangerous situations that this surprise visit didn’t even get his adrenaline up. He just lay there with his eyes closed, his mind quickly formulating a strategy. But all his plans crashed into oblivion when he heard a familiar female voice crooning in his ear.
“I just didn’t want you to think you could best me,” she whispered.
“I’m not impressed,” he answered, his eyes still closed. He could tell by the lightness of the pressure of the knife against his throat that she wasn’t serious. “Your brother should have taught you the finer art of bluffing.”
In a move so quick and unexpected that it couldn’t be anticipated, he flipped her backwards onto the ground. The knife flew from her hand, rose through the air in a graceful arc, and landed harmlessly point-down in the ground a few yards away. Zach frowned. She had dropped the damn thing. She
hadn’t had a tight enough grip on the handle. Her brother should have taught her better than that.
Before she could get up, Zach was on top of her, his muscular thighs straddling her mid-section, and a hand on either delicate wrist as he pinned her to the ground. Surprising how fragile those little bones felt beneath the pressure of his strong fingers. He could crush them on a whim. The way his body was reacting to her, he felt like doing just that, if only to relieve the anger and the frustration his reaction caused.
She didn’t bother to fight him. She knew she didn’t have a prayer of escaping his powerful grip. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to buck him off, anyway. Not nearly. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to. It felt good resting there, feeling the warmth of her body inching up his thighs like a caress, something he was trying desperately to ignore.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned. He knew his eyes held that lethal glint so unique to them because she was staring wide-eyed at him through the moon drenched night. “Someone as
vulnerable as you shouldn’t be sneaking up on a guy like me.”
“So, I did succeed in taking you by surprise,” she purred, smiling with satisfaction.
“Not hardly. I heard you coming from a mile away.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me before I got so close?”
Zach gave a snort of disgust and released her wrists, easing his weight off her but never lowering his guard as he knelt a few feet away, between her and the discarded knife. He watched her closely. He still didn’t trust her. The mysteriousness of her presence here in the middle of the forest had not escaped him. There could be more to it than just a contest of wills.
“Admit it. I got the best of you. My brother taught me well, don’t you think?” She was still lying on the ground where he’d left her, seemingly in no hurry to get up.
“Not nearly well enough,” Zach grumbled, glaring at her in resentment. He wasn’t about to admit she was quieter than most night creatures, that she did have a rather uncanny talent. “If he had taught you so well, you would know that pulling a stunt like the one you just attempted could have ended your worthless life in a second. If I were a man who was easily frightened, your head would be sagging from your scrawny little neck right now.”
She was sitting up now, staring back at him as she absently brushed the dirt off her jeans, jeans that he suddenly realized were worn and ragged. She wasn’t as well off as he had assumed. In fact, she looked a little down on her luck, like most everyone nowadays. Still, despite her worn attire, she didn’t belong in this forest, didn’t belong in this era. She looked like she belonged in some senator’s drawing room, serving tea to her committee. She had class, loads of it. She was out of place here, out of her element, but somehow she’d learned to adapt. To a degree, anyway.
“Looks like we’re traveling in the same direction,” she commented, as if to break the uncomfortable silence that had lengthened between them.
He didn’t reply. He just sat there staring at her. He’d suddenly been taken captive by the sight of her, suddenly noticing how her blouse was a little too tight across her chest, how her breasts strained against the fabric. Damn, she had a nice swell.
Angry with himself for becoming so fixated on her breasts, he glanced away. For the first time in eons he began to feel the stirrings of desire, white hot in his loins. He was hard as a rock, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He hadn’t touched a woman in years, and he wasn’t about to start now. He couldn’t trust it. He was a loner. He wasn’t interested in disrupting his life by taking up with a woman. Not even someone who looked as delectable as she did. Besides, he wasn’t sure she didn’t have the plague.
She’d certainly jumbled things for him. It wouldn’t be easy to get her out of his mind. He would never be able to forget the way she looked sitting there, her red hair streaming down her back, her breasts straining at a shirt made of a fabric that was far too thin. No damn wonder those men had been trying to rape her. She looked entirely too desirable.
“Traveling in the same direction, ay? What makes you say that?” he muttered, his brows pulled down in a fierce scowl. He was hoping he could intimidate her, but it didn’t seem to be working. For some insane reason she trusted him, probably because he had saved her life. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered. Then he wouldn’t be faced with this new problem, his friggin’ libido.
She shrugged. “Just a hunch.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. How did he know she was telling the truth? How did he know she hadn’t been following him?
“So, what do you want with the Pirates?” she asked.
“Who said I want anything with them?” His eyes were riveted on her face now, searching, piercing through to her soul, trying to figure out what had clued her in.
“Last night, when you helped me, you asked if I worked for them,” she reminded him.
“So I did,” he quipped. She was too damn smart for her own good, and it was beginning to wear on his nerves. “But that doesn’t mean I’m looking for them.”
“I figured either one of two things. You’re looking to join the ranks, or you’re settling a score.” She paused for effect. “If you were looking to join their ranks, you wouldn’t have helped me the way you did. Pirates ravage and kill. They don’t help people. That can only mean you’re looking to settle a score, and I figure that scar on your face is one of the reasons. Am I right?”
“You’d do well to stay out of my business,” he answered, his voice a lethal whisper. “If you get in my way, I might just slit your throat.”
Her eyes widened, a hint of fear returning to them.
“I’ve killed my fair share,” he finished, standing up to knock a few clinging leaves from his fatigues.
She stood up with him but maintained a safe distance. Her gaze found the knife that was still stuck in the ground not far away. Knowing she wasn’t a threat, Zach ignored the blade, just stood there staring at her. She seemed unsure of herself now, maybe even a little sad. He thought he detected tears glittering in her eyes. His jaw clamped down tight as he set his heart against them. A weepy female was the last thing he needed right now.
“Y-you helped me once.”
“Lady, I don’t know why you think I’m so wonderful, why you think I’ll help you, but I strongly suggest you forget whatever it is that brain of yours is hatching. I help no one but myself, understand?”
She silently met his gaze, and the look of vulnerability in her eyes almost choked him. Still, he was determined not to take the bait. He knew all about women and their wily ways.
“Beat it,” he growled. “Before Mr. Nice Guy changes his image.”
She stubbornly made no move to leave.
“I said beat it,” he warned, taking a menacing step toward her. “And take your knife with you.”
Obviously afraid he would do what he threatened, she gave him one final glance of apprehension and then darted for her knife. He didn’t make any move to stop her. Once the weapon was in her hands, she whirled on her heels and fled into the woods before he had a chance to say anything more. He thought he heard a sob tear from her throat as she crashed through the underbrush, and he had to fight the urge to go after her. Dammit, he couldn’t feel sorry for her. Not now. Whatever trouble she was in, she would have to handle it alone.
He didn’t try to sleep again that night. He knew she would be lurking nearby, hiding somewhere, probably afraid. Afraid of him, the woods, her plight, and her future. He could feel it whispering along on the breeze, wrapping its selfish tentacles around his brain, his heart, feeling its way into his psyche.
He resented it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do but move on, get his equipment and head out. She had complicated things for him. He would have to be especially careful now. He didn’t want her to follow him. And he knew she might try. She was a crafty little thing, bent on trouble for sure.
12
Zach’s foray into civilization had been a dangerous element to his mission, but one well worth the risk.
He managed to obtain valuable information. As it turned out, Pirates liked to brag about their exploits, and he came face to face with one of the men who’d been directly involved in Serena’s kidnapping.
Luck was with him. He spent weeks learning of the man’s whereabouts, weeks of wooing drunkards and cutthroats and thieves, and his efforts led him straight to the enemy’s camp.
The travois had long since been discarded, left by the wayside miles back so it wouldn’t present a problem. He didn’t need anyone stumbling across it in the woods and going in search of the owner.
When he arrived at his destination, he strategically hid his weapons in the trees, being careful to spread them out over a wide territory so that if one cache was discovered he would still have the others, although he did not anticipate the discovery of his stock. He hid them so well that he might even have difficulty relocating them.
He watched the Pirate camp for three days. Three days he stayed hidden in the surrounding woods. He spent his nights dozing in the trees, in a constant state of awareness. During every waking hour, he studied the enemy’s every move. They had habits, and he intended to know every one of them. Where they ate. Where they slept. He surveyed every building, every square inch of the encampment and the surrounding woods, calculating and planning, and carefully mapping out his strategy. Until he knew how many men he had to deal with, what their quirks were, who were the most dangerous opponents, and where to strike the hardest.
Zach was intrigued to discover his old opponent among the men, the man who had gouged the scar into his face. Not surprising, considering this was the Florida arm of the Pirates. Ole Snake had apparently moved up in the world and had earned himself a larger faction to ride herd over. Zach was pleased. Not only would he be taking out one of the more important strongholds of the Pirate league but he would have the pleasure of exacting a little justice for himself, too. This almost called for a celebration, maybe a celebration with lots of fireworks.
He made his move on the fourth night, the promise of revenge making his blood run hot and true, for Serena and for himself. There wasn’t a scrap of fear in him, nor a smidgen of doubt. Victory flowed in his blood, making him keen, alert, invincible. He couldn’t lose.
While most of the men were sitting around a huge bonfire on the other side of the clearing, eating, drinking, and acting like psychotic mercenaries, Zach sneaked into camp and set up his incendiaries, right under their noses. The arrogant bastards. He dodged in and out of shadows, between buildings, and in some cases nearly brushed shoulders with the enemy. His task was risky but necessary if he was to succeed.
Once, he was almost caught when a man stumbled out of a building he’d thought was vacant. Zach was in the process of setting an explosive under the porch when the man stepped outside, walked to the railing, and lit a cigarette. Zach froze, his eyes riveted on the man while his fingers continued to secure the explosive. He wasn’t willing to stop now. He didn’t want to be this close to danger without having something to show for it, and he refused to leave the explosive behind, inert, unusable. His stock was too precious and too few. He needed to make every weapon count.
The man must have heard the slight clicking noise as Zach set the bomb in place because he suddenly turned his head and peered into the darkness beyond the building. Zach held his breath and closed his eyes to keep the man from seeing the whites, hoping his fatigues and the grime he’d smeared on his face would blend into the night, making him invisible.
He counted to ten, his ears straining to hear any little noise that might alert him to the enemy’s moves.
The night sounds of the south, Florida frog-song and the chirp of cicadas all around him seemed amplified by the tension, the strain of waiting to be caught, punctuated by his own thudding heartbeat.
He heard the scuffing of boots against wood, smelled the acrid scent of homegrown smokes, tasted the tangy bitterness of his own fear salting his throat.
Nothing happened.
He eased his eyes open a crack. The man was still standing on the porch, cigarette in hand, looking the other way.
On hands and knees, Zach moved backwards until the man turned to peer in his direction again. Zach froze, forced himself to remain calm, his eyes riveted on the Pirate. The slimeball had been leaning against the railing, but now he stood up a little straighter, stomped one booted foot against the porch and then started down the stairs. Zach waited for the worst to happen, watching, his fingers inching toward the throwaway in his boot as his eyes followed the man out to the edge of the woods. He obviously planned to do a little sweep of the area while he smoked his cigarette.
The minute the man’s back was turned, Zach shrank into the shadows and silently followed the line of the building until he found an opportunity to dart across to a tree, then another building, and on to another shadow. Slinking along in quick sprints interrupted by brief, anxious pauses, he escaped to the outer perimeter of the camp where he took refuge behind a group of barrels that sat near a wooden shack. He waited a few beats, trying to determine if he’d been seen. When nothing happened, he assumed he hadn’t been noticed. Time to get back to his stand in the trees, where it was safer.
Before he could make another move, a group of drunken men passed within inches of him. Thankfully, they were too inebriated to be paying attention, and Zach remained undetected. As soon as it was safe to do so, he sank back into the woods, preparing to put the finishing touches to his mission. If everything went as planned, he would be removing a good seventy or so scumbags from the planet.
Most of them kingpins, subagents of the greater faction, men the world could do without.
Now it began. Soon the incendiaries he had placed would ignite and begin to burn the shacks and buildings within the encampment. Then he would act.
Perched high above the camp in a tree he had chosen specifically for its strategic view, Zach surveyed his handiwork. It wouldn’t be long now.
