Rebel Heart Page 8

  “One thing civilian bitches are good for.”

  Terror spun through her. He ripped the clothing from her, then sliced through her belt, shoving her over the stack of trunks. Lana shoved herself back, ignoring the pain in her wrist as adrenaline flew threw her.

  He slammed her into the trunk, and she gasped, unable to move. Instead, she stretched for the laser gun, grasping it. Distracted, her attacker cut through one legging then the other. When she felt the knife near one ankle, she lashed out at him.

  He cursed and wrenched her up, slapping her hard. She fell, head spinning. She aimed and fired. Curses indicated she’d hit him but not killed him. The man smashed his heel onto her already wounded arm. Her head cleared enough for her to see she’d hit one of his arms, which was drenched with blood.

  He snatched her legs and dragged her to him. Lana scrambled and fought, tears on her face as she realized what she’d done in leaving the Peak. The insurgent pinned her in place with one foot on her stomach and wrenched off her civilian grays. He snatched her hands and pinned them above her head with one hand, settling his weight atop her as he reached down to undo the buttons of his trousers.

  “I’ll give you a reason to scream soon, fed bitch,” he promised.

  She crossed her legs at the ankles, and he planted one knee between her thighs, driving them apart. Lana struggled hard without being able to dislodge the muscular man. He pulled a laser gun from his boot and placed it at her temple. She stilled and squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable.

  The sound of a laser gun went off, and warm blood splattered her. She gasped, waiting to feel the pain certain to come. Suddenly, the man slumped and released her hands. She opened her eyes, staring at his open eyes and still body, at the blood pooling around her. Her gaze moved to the laser gun and then to the familiar man holding it.

  Major Brady. Her heart soared, and she almost cried out at being rescued.

  He signaled to the other insurgent, who obeyed and moved forward, grabbing the dead man’s ankles and hauling him out.

  Brady wore PMF gray. He was one of them.

  The laser gun was at his side. He stepped towards her, and she inched away. Her gaze went again to the pool of blood, then to the thick swath of red marking the trail of the dead man. She pushed herself away from him as he took another step towards her, a newfound horror creeping through her.

  Beyond concerned, Brady crossed to the trembling woman and squatted. She shook like a leaf in a thunderstorm, her warm brown eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks. Donovan’s blood was on her face and T-shirt, and her wrist was bleeding again. The idea of the idiot raping her infuriated him.

  “Aw, hell,” Dan said as he appeared in the doorway.

  “She’s okay,” Brady said, not entirely convinced.

  As a warrior who spent his adult life at battle, he wasn’t really keen on how to comfort a woman who had seen three things she’d likely never witnessed before in the span of five minutes. He doubted she’d ever been in a situation where she’d barely escaped being raped, and he knew she’d never shot anyone or seen anyone’s head get blown off in front of her.

  Donovan had gotten pretty damn far, he admitted. She was down to her underwear and a T-shirt. A minute more, and he’d have been too late. She huddled against the trunk, too terrified to make a sound. He held out a hand to her, and she withdrew further.

  Brady looked at Dan, who shook his head.

  “Burn her clothes,” he said. “Issue an order to the men. The girl’s mine.”

  As the PMF commander of the Appalachia Branch, his word would hold, especially when his men heard he’d blown off Donovan’s head for hurting her. In the paramilitary organization that relied on secrecy and loyalty to survive, the soldiers followed the man they trusted most. He’d gone from one world to the other easily; it was in his blood, the blood of his father and grandfather.

  The woman before him had never known any other world but her own. She definitely wouldn’t understand a world like this one.

  He reached for her, as gentle as possible when she struggled. He picked her up and strode out of the tent and through the camp, ignoring the catcalls of the men around him. He took her to his tent. Though he did live in a tent, he liked to think he lived as comfortable as possible. It resembled a studio apartment with a real bed and dresser, a restroom cordoned off by opaque curtains in one corner, a small study where he kept his war docs, a kitchenette, rugs, and a small living area. He set her down on a rug.

  She cowered away from him, favoring her hurt wrist.

  “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Her tearful plea made him angry that he hadn’t been able to protect her as he should have. Even so, she wasn’t going to last long among the roughnecks in his camp if she didn’t toughen up a little.

  “You have to do what I say,” he said. “You understand me?”

  She nodded. He prepped bandages for her wrist, a bowl and washcloth, and a smaller version of the doc’s med-gun, loading it with enough painkiller to knock her out. She inched away, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. He gave her the shot first. Her body jerked, but its effects were immediate. She slumped against him.

  Brady pulled her into his lap and set to work on cleaning her up and repairing her wrist. He didn’t know if she hadn’t had time to fix her wound or didn’t know how; the wound was on the verge of becoming infected.

  “Here’s her shit,” Dan said, ducking into the tent. He tossed her micro, pills, and a vault half the size of his hand on the pillows near him. “She okay?”

  “She’s gonna be a mess,” Brady said.

  “Donovan hurt her?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Dan shook his head and flung himself down across from him, retrieving the sealed vault. He shook it then set it down when it made no noise.

  “What is someone like this doing out here?” Brady demanded.

  “No idea.”

  Lana’s skin was soft, her body fitting comfortably against his. His blood heated at her familiar scent. He’d found her voice soothing and enjoyed talking to her when he was her Guardian, enough so that he’d looked forward to their paths crossing. He hadn’t expected her to be as small or exotically beautiful as she was.

  “We found Elise,” Dan said.

  “She put up a fight?”

  “Oh, yeah. Took out two of our guys until I told her we had this one.”

  “Elise will do well here. This one …” Brady shook his head at the woman in his lap.

  “Like a lamb to the coyotes.”

  They both studied the unconscious woman. Her shapely body was all but exposed. When he’d gotten Donovan’s blood off her, Brady lifted her and placed her in his bed. He stood over her, pensive. It was easier to protect Angel from afar, before she knew what he was or faced the dangers he did daily. Though he took an oath to take care of her, he’d never expected she’d be lying in his bed, helpless against his world.

  “Post a guard.”

  “Brade.”

  He looked up at Dan’s curious tone.

  “You intend to keep her, don’t you?”

  “You remember the girl who got us access to the hospital?”

  “That’s Angel?” Dan asked, suddenly interested.

  “Yep.”

  “Wow—bet you never saw this coming. She’s not what I expected at all. I know you said she was smart, but … little?”

  “You can’t tell that by someone’s voice.” Brady snorted and picked up her micro. It didn’t activate at his touch, and he suspected it was locked to everyone but her. He tucked it and the vault into his cargo pocket.

  “She might be useful,” he said. “She knows where every emerops point is on the East Coast.”

  “Just when I start to think you’ve gone soft …” Dan said and shook his head. “You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Brady said dryly. “When’s the next mission to the Peak?”

  �
��Leaves in an hour.”

  He looked one last time at the woman in his bed and left the tent. If he didn’t think he’d scarred her for life, he’d look forward to wooing her to his bed for a different reason. With her sexy little body, full lips, and huge brown eyes …

  In a different world, maybe. He wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that made him think thoughts he normally didn’t in the middle of a warzone. Brady posted two of his most trusted soldiers as guards and geared up for the mission to the Peak.

  Lana awoke in the large tent, wrist aching and her face hurting where she’d been struck. She recalled her night with a jolt and sat, expecting men to leap from the shadows to rape her.

  She was alone. She looked at her wrist. It had been bandaged again. While the covers smelled like Brady, he was nowhere around. She crept from the bed and looked around. Clothing sat on the nightstand near the bed. She was hungry, tired, and dirty. Memories of almost being raped, of Brady killing someone in front of her …

  Her chest seized, and she dropped to her knees. She still felt that man’s rough hands on her body and the sense of helplessness. Brady had killed him for it. She wanted to think he’d done it to help her, but what kind of a monster could execute another in cold blood?

  With a deep breath, she forced herself up. She took a shower, as hot as it would go, and stayed until the hot water ran out. It soothed her head and the aches of her body. Her black uniform was clean and waiting for her. She pulled it on quickly, and studied the marks on her face. One cheekbone was yellow, her lower lip swollen.

  Her micro and the vault were missing. Greenie—and those he was working with—would be crazy not to pursue her, once they found out what she did. She’d planned on Elise helping her escape to the west, where she could secure the Horsemen at the Peace Command Center. Her plan had failed before she got off the mountain.

  She looked around, overwhelmed by the idea of trying to find a way west on her own. She hadn’t brought her ID for fear of being tracked and realized she also didn’t have a source of credit to buy anything. She definitely didn’t know how to survive in the forest.

  Desperation crept over her. She was trained to assess, protect, repair, and sustain government systems through any kind of crisis. Yet she didn’t know the first thing about life outside the command center!

  The tent opened, revealing the world outside of it. It was past dark, and the camp was filled with men and tents as far as she could see. Her despair increased; she couldn’t escape from a camp this size! Brady, Dan, and another man breezed past her. She quelled her sense of panic, instead moving as far from them as possible to the kitchen and hoping they didn’t notice her.

  They all wore dark gray tactical suits and were fully armed. Her hands shook of their own accord as her gaze swept over them and their advanced weapons.

  There was no intel report on how the PMF had acquired the technology needed to create the genetically altered soldiers that stood before her. From Dan’s whiplike body to Brady’s feline-like musculature to the stranger’s towering frame, there was no mistaking them for normal soldiers. They were all over six feet, all engineered for power, agility, and endurance.

  Their quiet talking ceased, and they looked at her. She sucked in a breath. Brady pulled her micro from his cargo pocket and approached her with a controlled, slow gate, much like that of a stalking lion. She backed away until the corner of the kitchen counters trapped her. She felt his body heat and stared at his wide chest.

  “Nearest emerops facility,” he whispered in his broken voice. He held out her micro.

  Fear fluttered through her, and she shook her head. He planted his hands on either side of her and lowered his face to her level, forcing her to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were as hard as his chiseled face and intense.

  “When I give an order, no one disobeys me. Do you understand?” he demanded. “Nearest emerops facility. Now.”

  She jumped at his tone and took the micro in shaking hands. It flickered on for her, and she correlated their coordinates with two touches. She showed it to him.

  “Open it at sixteen hundred today and close it at seventeen twenty.”

  She set the parameters and waited for the approval screen. When it flashed, she showed him again. He took the micro and turned away from her. She released the breath she’d been holding and watched him, afraid he’d come back for something else.

  He gave the coordinates to Dan and replaced the micro in his pocket. His request gave her an idea. She could survive on the ample amounts of supplies the emerops facilities contained if she moved from facility to facility towards the west. She only needed to regain the micro and vault.

  The two men left. She prayed for Brady to follow. Instead, he turned and approached her again. She stared at his chest, not looking up until he stopped a couple feet from her.

  “You know who we are?”

  She shook her head, playing dumb.

  “Appalachia Branch of the PMF.”

  Her mouth felt dry. She didn’t want to face the futility of her situation, not yet!

  “You’re a smart girl. I think you understand how vulnerable you are here. Do as you’re told, and I’ll protect you.” His voice sounded stronger today, and his southern drawl struck her as oddly familiar.

  With his commanding air, he was accustomed to being in charge. She took some solace in knowing he had the power to protect her. What he wanted from her was a question she feared to ask. His gaze went to her wrist, and he closed the distance between them, taking it. His gentleness was unexpected as he examined the wrapped injury. She sensed his concern, the same she’d felt at the Peak when he walked her out of the medical bay. His kindness then made her stomach flutter. Now, she didn’t know what to think.

  “You know anything about bandages?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Is that why you hadn’t changed it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lucky it’s not infected. It was a mess.”

  “Do you kill many people?” She couldn’t reconcile the cold-blooded killer who executed a man in front of her with the man concerned over her wrist.

  He glanced up at her and released her wrist. “Yeah, I do.”

  His factual response chilled her. There was no remorse in his face or tone. Her breath quickened again. He stepped away from her, retreating to the bedroom area.

  “There’s food in the cabinets,” he said.

  She watched him for a moment then crossed to the nearest cabinet. It was stocked with meal bars. Ravenous, she chose two and started to close the cabinet door, when she saw a small box tucked between the edge of the cabinet and the boxes. It was too delicate for such a place and such a man. Lana tilted it out far enough to see it was a box of chocolates with the nearby fed hospital’s seal on the top. It was the same hospital she’d sent the Guardian to.

  An uneasy instinct filled her, the same that warned her about General Greene. Her hand dropped. Brady was more likely to kill Guardian and steal his chocolate than be Guardian. She closed the cabinet door, troubled.

  The sight of him naked to his waist made her stop. His back was towards her, the expanse of golden skin stretched over bulging muscles startling her. His shoulders were wide, his back wide and tapering to a slender, lean stomach and hips. His arms were huge, his muscles long and lean. His movements were restrained and fluid, effortless like those of a great cat.

  She’d never seen a man without a shirt on. The thought struck her as odd. How many women her age had never seen a naked back, let alone a naked man? Her thoughts went to the Guardian. She’d fantasized about him once. She imagined he looked much like the man before her, thick and strong.

  The idea that the man who’d become her friend looked like this made her feel warm from the inside out. She clenched her meal bars and crossed to the living area, sitting with her back to him.

  “There are blankets in the trunk,” he told her. “Do I need to warn you what’ll happen if you try to escap
e?”

  “No,” she said, heart quickening.

  The lights went out, and she blinked, looking up at the sound of whirring. A window in the ceiling opened. Moonlight spilled into part of the tent. She sat back in the low couch and ate her meal bars, mind going to the micro in his pocket. She may even be able to track Elise with them, since she knew her ID number.

  She waited until she heard his breathing deepen and then rose. She stood over him, staring again at his muscular back. He slept on his stomach, his arms folded beneath his head, and a sheet covering him from the waist down. His cargo pants lay on the bed beside him, and she saw the bulge where her micro was stored.

  She crept around the bed and leaned on it gingerly, watching for signs of him waking. With nothing to balance against, she settled her knees on the bed, stopped to make sure he was still asleep, then inched forward until she could reach his pants. She held her breath, slipped her hand into the pocket, and pulled the micro free. It sprang to life at her touch with a ping that made her heart leap.

  She didn’t see the man in the bed move until she felt his hands. She gave a soft cry as she came off her knees. In a blink, she was pinned on top of his warm body, his arms locked around her and his muscular legs wrapped around hers.

  Shadows covered half his face, rendering his chiseled features and low brow sinister. Her breathing was hard, his body heat piercing her clothes. His eyes were as dark as the ocean depths, his grip around her body unmovable.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other in the moonlight. She sucked in a deep breath.

  “You trying to kill me?” he whispered in the Southern drawl that sounded far too familiar for her comfort.

  She shook her head, gazing into his dark eyes. He freed one of his arms and reached for the arm she’d hidden behind her back to keep him from seeing what she had. She squirmed in objection, and his body adjusted around hers in response. She’d never been so close to a man. The feeling of his bare body against hers terrified her; he was strong enough to do what Donovan had not!

  Unless he’s my Guardian. The idea made her more anxious to get away.