Night Resurrected (20 page)

her.

Remy had asked Ian about Lacey

once, when they were together. One of

the reasons Seattle hated Ian enough to

kill him was because he wanted Lacey,

and he believed she and Ian were lovers.

But when Remy asked Ian about Lacey,

he responded negatively, with great

disgust.
Fuck, no
, were his exact words.

Apparently, his opinion had changed.

Lacey relaxed visibly and Remy

heard the low, husky rumble of her laugh

as she fairly melted into Ian. They

shifted so that Ian’s back was toward the

Humvee, blocking Lacey from view, and

Remy saw him bend to kiss her. It was

not a brief one.

“Jealous?” said a deep voice in her

ear. Goldwyn’s presence engulfed her,

causing

her

stomach

to

pitch

unpleasantly. “I can take your mind off

that.”

Before she could move away, he slid

his arms around her from behind, pulling

her back against him so her bound hands

were against his crotch. Remy gagged as

he pressed his erection firmly into her

hands as his fingers moved around to

caress her cheek, then slide down from

her shoulder over her breast.

She shuddered, closing her eyes as

she tried not to vomit, tried to stave off

the ugly, dark memories that swarmed

her as she struggled to ignore the feel of

his hands on her.
Breathe.
She slammed

her heel down onto his foot then

squeezed the soft part of him pressing

into her from behind.

Goldwyn cried out in rage, and the

next thing she knew, she was spinning

toward the ground.

Someone caught her before she

landed on her battered face, yanking her

upright with an uncomfortable jerk of her

bound wrists. Remy looked up and saw

Ian through her angry tears. He wasn’t

looking at her, but at Goldwyn. “No,” he

said, his voice deathly cold.

“But you—”

“That’s right.
I
. Not you.” Ian smiled

down at her with a hard, cruel mouth,

then propelled her sharply toward the

Humvee. He wasn’t rough enough to

make her fall again, but she bumped

against the wall.

“Ian,”

Lacey

said,

her

voice

questioning, and flavored with the

slightest whine.

His mouth tightened, then softened as

he turned to her, sliding one finger up

her arm suggestively. Then, just as

smoothly, he asked, “Where’s the dog?”

She shook her head mutely. She

wasn’t sure she could even whistle for

Dantès, with her mouth cut as it was. But

she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Ian

anything.

Betrayed by two men in less than an

hour. What the hell.

“Remy,” Ian said, taking her by the

arms and yanking her toward him.

“Where the hell is your dog?” He was so

close she could feel his breath on her

cheek, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m

sure you don’t want anything to happen

to him.”

Something about his tone cut through

her pain and anger and she met his eyes.

A little ping of hope flitted through her

when she saw the intensity in his gaze,

then it faded. She knew better. “I don’t

know,” she managed to say through a

swollen, bloody lip. “He took off.”

Ian gave a short nod, then shoved her

away. Not enough to make her fall again,

but enough that she stumbled. Lacey was

watching them with a suspicious, furious

expression, and when her eyes settled on

Remy, they were filled with hatred.

Then, to Remy’s horror, Ian whistled

and shouted, “Dantès! Come.”

She started to shriek “No!” when

Lacey jammed the gun into her throat as

Dantès bounded out into the clearing,

leaping through the school window as if

he’d been waiting for the chance.

Ian looked at Lacey. “Keep that on

her. You—don’t say a word,” he

ordered Remy as he walked over to stop

Dantès from rushing up to his mistress.

Remy held her breath, feeling the

pressure of the gun barrel on her skin. If

it was pushing into her, it wasn’t aiming

at Dantès. She had that at least. She tried

to relax, because if her dog knew she

was in distress, he’d attack even without

her command. And then the gun would

go off. Ian knelt and greeted her pet, who

kept looking around him at her. Remy

closed her eyes briefly, praying, trying

to dissolve any tension Dantès might

sense.

“Remy. Tell him it’s okay,” Ian

called from where he crouched by the

dog.

“It’s okay, Dantès,” Remy called in

as steady a voice as she could muster.

Let him be okay. Let him go. Please.

The wave of despair and fear that rushed

through her was so strong, she felt a

great band of pressure constricting her

chest. Darkness flickered at the edge of

her vision despite the rising sun, and for

a moment her knees felt as if they were

going to give out.

Then Ian made a sharp gesture, and

after one hesitant glance at Remy, Dantès

dashed off into the woods.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Ian said

as he returned. “Now, before the mutt

comes back.” When Lacey opened her

mouth to protest, he snapped, “The dog’s

a loose wire. You want to take the

chance he might tear out your throat like

he did to Seattle?”

“Seattle’s dead?” Lacey sounded

gleeful. “Rocks.”

As she alternated between relief that

Dantès was being spared and despair

that she was being taken away so she

couldn’t be tracked, Remy was shoved

into the back of the Humvee with rough

hands. She landed on her face again, but

at least the seat was softer than the

ground. To her dismay, Goldwyn

climbed in the back with her and Ian

went behind the wheel, with Lacey

joining him in front.

The truck took off with a lurch, and

Remy bounced along, half on the floor,

half on the seat, as they barreled over the

rough terrain. Exhaustion, pain, and fear

eventually had its way, and she at last

succumbed to the darkness edging her

vision.

W
hen Remy became aware again, it

was to a bright, jolting world filled with

throbbing pain and a constant rumble

beneath her ear. Her mouth was dry and

when she tried to swallow, she realized

her swollen, bloody lip had stuck to the

leather seat. Her back hurt, her arms

strained behind her ached, and her head

pounded.

She blinked gritty eyes, and as the

sound

of

voices

penetrated

her

discomfort, she tried to listen to the

conversation. It went in and out, but she

caught some of it over the sound of

Goldwyn’s snoring and the vehicle’s

motor.

“. . . stop for a while.” That was Ian,

who was driving.

“But it’s just past dawn,” Lacey

argued. “. . . get to Mecca . . .”

“. . . find out where she hid the

crystal . . .” Ian again. So he thought

she’d hidden the crystal. But how did he

know?

“She’ll tell me,” Lacey said, the

anticipation in her voice. “I have . . .

getting information.”

Ian laughed. “I’d love to see you in

action.”

Remy closed her eyes as a dart of

renewed fear shot through her. What she

wouldn’t give for a drink of water. A

knife. A gun.

Even Wyatt.

She squeezed her eyes tighter as tears

stung them. She’d been alone before.

Alone and hopeless. She’d figure out a

way to escape, or die trying.

But the crystal was out of her hands

now, so she didn’t have to protect it. She

didn’t have to stay alive.

That realization was, in a bleak way,

a relief.

Now if there was a chance she could

convince them that she had nothing they

wanted . . .

No. She could be terrified later.

Now, she had to think. And in

regrouping and assessing her situation,

she realized the softness beneath one of

her knees was the duffel bag she’d

noticed earlier, when she searched the

inside of the Humvee. Maybe there was

something useful inside.

It

took

some

uncomfortable

contortions, but Remy was able to

squirm down to the floor and find the

zipper on the duffel, her face buried in

the space between the back of Lacey’s

seat and the rear. When she found the

metal tab, it took forever to get at the

right angle to catch it in her teeth—and

the bouncing, jouncing, jolting of the ride

didn’t make it any easier. But she bit

firmly onto it and then tried to work the

zipper open. She caught her lower lip in

the metal as the truck jounced and

caused the zip to surge open, but in the

grand scheme of things, it was a minor

discomfort.

But she’d barely begun to open the

duffel when the truck stopped abruptly.

She jolted forward, slamming against the

back of Lacey’s seat. She stifled a moan

of pain and tensed as the doors opened

and Ian and Lacey got out of the truck.

When the door next to her opened,

she prepared herself for an onslaught of

renewed violence, but it was Ian, not

Lacey, who pulled her out.

“Fuck. You’re a mess aren’t you?”

Ian looked at her with those cold blue

eyes. He steadied her on her feet,

holding onto her arm as if afraid she

would bolt. “I don’t want her to get

infected or sick. Liam won’t be pleased

if she dies before we get the information

he wants. We’ve come too far to fuck

things up.”

“Who’s Liam?” Remy managed to

ask, although the question came out more

like a growl.

Lacey started to retort angrily, but Ian

stopped her with a raised hand. “Liam

Hegelson,” he told Remy. “He’ll be

delighted to welcome you to Mecca.

He’s been looking for Remington Truth

—and the crystal—for a long time.”

“I don’t have the crystal.”

“I know,” he replied. “But you’re

going to tell me where it is.” The soft

menace in his voice was an unsettling

promise, and Remy’s heart thudded

heavy and hard in her chest.

The four of them went inside a small

brick building that was relatively clean

and unlittered. Obviously, it was a

regular stop-over place with which the

bounty hunters were familiar. The inside

was dim and sparsely furnished with a

sofa, chairs, and a table.

To Remy’s surprise, Ian arranged for

warm water—heated over a small solar-

powered device—to wash the blood and

dirt from her injured face. He also

ordered Goldwyn to snip away the

plastic cords around her wrists, and

Remy fairly cried with relief when she

was able to move her arms again.

“There are three of us and one of

her,” Ian snapped when Lacey protested.

“You don’t think you can handle that?”

“Whatever. But let me find out where

the crystal is.” Her colorless eyes

danced with anticipation.

“Be my guest,” Ian said, gesturing to

a chair. “I don’t like to get messy. But

what’s the hurry? I’ve got other things on

my mind.” The look he gave Lacey was

so slow and heavy, even Remy felt it.

The bounty hunter relaxed, nearly

oozing against him. Then she looked at

Goldwyn. “You stay here. Watch her.

We’ll be back. Later.” She gave Remy a

cold, cruel smile as she slipped her

wiry, muscular arm through Ian’s.

“That’ll give you time to rest. You’re

gonna need it.”

“T
ake the stones to Envy?” Cat said,

looking at her father. She put down her

cup of tea. “Why?”

Everyone knew about Envy—the

largest settlement of people since the

Change. It had sprung up in the months

after the massive catastrophe that

destroyed twenty-first century America