Deep Within Me

use.

There was only one way to find out.

“Ernez.”

The man went to Carreon immediately, while also keeping a safe distance…just out of arm’s reach.

For the moment, Carreon ignored Ernez’s prudent caution and spoke to Trinidad. “Give me your knife.”

She regarded the injury she’d given Ernez and delivered her switchblade with a smile.

“Your hand,” Carreon said to the younger man. “The one that hasn’t been cut.”

Ernez backed up a step.

Carreon depressed the button that released the blade. Ernez flinched at its silky whoosh, then stared at the gleaming metal as though it were a living thing, a monster from a horrible nightmare.

“Now,” Carreon ordered.

Ernez didn’t move. He seemed unable to breathe.

When he’d murdered his own cousin on Carreon’s orders, he’d shown no fear or hesitation. Then he’d been obedient and brave. No longer.

He whispered, “Please don’t.”

Please don’t? Did the idiot actually believe that would change anything? Carreon needed to test the extent of Trinidad’s power. He had to use her for his own ends until he had Liz and her father back, which he would. He’d also have Zeke, torturing him into revealing his visions.

“It’s either your hand or your balls,” Carreon said, offering a choice.

Ernez trembled. He put out his hand. It shook badly.

“Would you like me to hold him still?” Trinidad asked.

“Bitch,” Ernez growled.

“Yes,” she said, leveling her gaze on him. “What of it?”

“Cut her,” Ernez begged Carreon. “See if she can heal herself.”

“I’d rather see if she can heal you.”

“I don’t mind.” She pushed to her feet and held out her hand, palm up, as steady as a physician prepared to perform major surgery. “Go on.”

Carreon was nearly tempted to do so, to see if he could pull some emotion from her. However, the small mark on her palm stopped him. What if the knife injured more than her tissue, veins and tendons? What if it reduced her healing gift even more? What if she was his last hope for healing and reanimation because he couldn’t get Liz and her father back? If they remained with Zeke—

No. They wouldn’t. Somehow he’d see all three of them imprisoned.

Failure wasn’t something Carreon would accept. Nor did he have time to strengthen Trinidad’s gift bit by bit with minor wounds.

He closed the blade and tossed the weapon back to her. She caught it in one hand, holding it in her fingers as she might a cigarette. “You want me to cut him?”

Ignoring her, Carreon spoke to Ernez. “Which of the strippers is the least popular with the customers?”

Trinidad answered before he could. “Maria. She’s old. Nearly thirty-five. She should have quit a long time ago.”

Indeed, she should have. A woman past thirty was a senior citizen when it came to stripping and whoring.

“Call Maria,” Carreon ordered Ernez. The club had been closed for several hours and wouldn’t reopen until late tonight. No doubt, Maria was at home sound asleep, having no idea what her future would bring. “Tell her to get her ass back to the club if she wants to earn four times what she usually does. The boss has a special project for her.”

One she hadn’t asked for and certainly wouldn’t want once she found out what it was. Couldn’t be helped. Carreon didn’t have time to play at this. He needed his doubts answered, no matter the outcome to anyone else.

Chapter Six

Liz was back in the Jeep.

How she got there she didn’t know, couldn’t recall. In a part of her mind unaffected by fatigue, she wondered if she was dreaming.

Zeke drove. Her father sat in the back of the vehicle, his leg twisted in a way no limb should ever be. Gasping in surprise, Liz leaned over the seat to heal him.

“No!” Zeke shouted.

At the thunderous sound, Liz snatched back her hands. A volley of gunfire hit the Jeep, the strident rip of metal hurting her ears.

She slapped her hands over them. In that same instant, a wave of exhaustion hit so hard she had to fight to stay conscious.

“Tired?” her father asked. He spoke quietly, the sound seeming to come from a great distance. The same as when she’d died and gone to the other side and he’d brought her—

“Liz, are you tired?” he repeated.

Yes. Why? Her mind struggled to find an answer. It drifted close, then fluttered away, leaving her with the sense that her fatigue had something to do with him.

“Don’t heal your father,” Zeke warned. “Don’t heal anyone.”

Why?

Instinctively, Liz reached for Zeke and touched a downy material instead, as soft as cashmere. With a start, she awoke and squinted at the limestone walls, glowing faintly like a nightlight, weakening the shadows. She rolled over and nearly fell off the mattress rather than running into Zeke’s big body.

Where is he?

She left the bed and stumbled into the bath, her legs wobbly from lingering fatigue and disuse.

The room was empty.

Liz tried to bring back her disturbing dream, suddenly realizing she’d had one. Something to do with Zeke and…a leg? Biting her lower lip, she thought hard, but the images refused to return.

She circled the bath, searching for a hidden door that led to a hallway Zeke might have gone down…or perhaps another room he was in. Similar to the one where he’d put her last night when the battle broke out. He’d had no reason to believe she’d find a way to escape.

She had and returned to Carreon’s stronghold, determined to take him down so he couldn’t harm Zeke or her father ever again. She’d hoped Carreon’s absence would make his lieutenants scatter in panic, no different from frightened vermin. Instead, Carreon had murdered her. Exactly as Zeke’s visions had warned.

As far as Liz could determine, there weren’t any hidden entrances in here that led to a concealed area. She glanced at the bedroom’s double doors. Had one of Zeke’s people come here while she’d slept and awakened him to more trouble? Not Carreon’s men having returned. If they had, she would have heard gunfire. Zeke would have taken her to a safe place, another secret room that he would have made certain she couldn’t escape. No, this trouble would have to do with his clan. Had they decided he had to leave after all, along with her and her father?

Hurriedly, Liz went to her clothes, then curled her upper lip at the thought of putting them on again. Blood and dirt stiffened parts of the fabric. After a brief search, she found Zeke’s tees in a nightstand drawer. The one she pulled on hung halfway down her thighs and smelled of fabric softener rather than him. His jeans were far too large for her to wear. She settled for a pair of stretchy boxers rather than briefs, that she knotted at her waist so they’d stay up. The edge of the navy fabric skimmed her knees.

At the limestone wall, she mimicked Zeke’s earlier movements, which turned the surface into a mirror.

Ugh. Liz made a face at how shitty and ridiculous she looked, but at least she was covered.

Now all she had to do was leave the room. She paused at the double doors and hoped to God that they’d