head.
The other spat. The food in his mouth sprayed Zeke’s jeans.
Paul stood so quickly, the legs of his chair scraped the floor. He pointed his weapon at the one who’d spat.
“Easy.” Zeke put his hand on the barrel, lowering it. Icy determination rather than rage coursed through him.
Paul growled, “A couple of bullets to his knees, like what they did to Samuel, will get him to talk.”
The man spat again.
“No,” Zeke said. “We’ll let Carreon deal with them like that.”
The prisoners exchanged a glance, then regarded Zeke cautiously.
“After you’ve been here awhile, we’re going to release you,” he said. “Right into Carreon’s lap. No matter what you tell him really happened here, he’ll believe you talked. You told us all of his secrets. What do you think he’ll do about that?”
The men’s swarthy faces turned pale.
“You have two choices,” Zeke explained. “You tell us what you know and join us, or face Carreon once we send you back to him.”
“You’re lying,” the bulkier one growled.
“Care to find out if that’s true?” Jacob asked.
They exchanged another glance with each other.
Now that Zeke had their attention, he asked, “Which one of Carreon’s men is in his late twenties with dark hair, longish past his ears? He’s a pretty boy, not like you guys. What the ladies would call handsome. What’s his name? Who is he?”
Jacob turned to Zeke and whispered, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ignoring his brother, Zeke coaxed more images from his vision. “He’s wearing a T-shirt, denim jacket and jeans…possibly hiking boots. He’s—”
Zeke stopped. The prisoners, Paul, Kele and Jacob faded away. In the place of this room, he saw the desert landscape outside. A bone-dry breeze whipped around him, stirring up sand and dirt, the sound nearly as loud as the static from his vision. He smelled the earth baking beneath the oppressive sun.
Overhead, a bird squawked.
The young man from his previous vision held up his arm to shield his face. He mouthed something Zeke couldn’t hear. His expression made it seem like a plea or a—
Zeke’s breath caught as a bullet tore through the young man’s belly. Another ripped through his heart. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, dust puffing up around him.
Liz leaned over the young man, wanting to bring him back. As she did, her lids grew heavy, her shoulders slumped. Zeke screamed for her to stop. She didn’t hear. He ran toward her, but no matter how much distance he traveled, she was still too far away, the life force draining from her, leaving her—
“Zeke.”
He blinked and stared at Jacob, who’d gone as white as their prisoners had a moment earlier.
“What did you see?” Jacob asked.
Zeke wasn’t certain what any of it meant. As always, his fucking visions showed just enough to confuse him, taunting him with clues he couldn’t yet read.
“Jacob!” Ike’s voice called from the hall. “Are you down here?”
He stuck his head out the doorway. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“Is Zeke with you?”
He went into the hall. Ike and several of the other men were there, each armed with an assault rifle.
Bile rose to Zeke’s throat. He forced it down. “What happened?”
Ike spoke before the others could. “There’s a man not too far from the tunnel’s entrance. Our cameras just picked him up. Looks like a hiker. Could be a trick. Maybe Carreon told him to dress that way. Our guys are already headed out there to see—”
“What’s he wearing?” Zeke asked.
“Jeans, a white tee, denim—hey,” Ike interrupted himself as Zeke bolted down the hall, followed by Jacob. “Where are you going?”
Outside. To keep his men from shooting the man, and Liz from having to revive him. To find out who the fuck he was. Why he’d been in Zeke’s visions.
Chapter Eight
Trinidad’s suggestion was so simple and delightfully insightful, Carreon smiled. “You’re very cunning, aren’t you?”
She pulled on her newest cigarette, then released the smoke through her nose. “Yes, I am.”
Carreon grinned at her continued arrogance. In time, he’d make her more docile than Maria, with Trinidad watching him carefully to see what he’d do, never quite knowing what to expect. For now, though, he encouraged her bluster, wanting to see where it would go.
He offered his hand.
She enjoyed a bit more of her smoke before accepting it.
Once she was on her feet, Carreon pulled her against him. Luckily, for her, she kept her cigarette to the side, not burning him as she had Ernez. If she had…well, no woman would live through that with him.
Trinidad parted her lips, her focus on his mouth as though she expected a kiss. Carreon knew she could feel his erection, given how she’d pressed her cunt against it.
With his attention on her mouth, he hid his distaste for the stench of cigarette smoke and spoke to Ernez. “Who do we use for our computer systems?”
Ernez gave up the man’s name immediately.
Carreon cupped Trinidad’s ass, enjoying how plush and incredibly soft it was. He pulled her closer. She didn’t resist. He hadn’t expected her to. “Where is he now?” Carreon asked Ernez.
“At this hour, probably still at home, having breakfast.”
“Call him. Tell him we need to get into Neekoma’s systems.”
Those in Zeke’s clan weren’t the only ones who could hack into someone’s computer. However, Carreon didn’t want any data wiped out as Zeke’s people had done with the GPS. He was fairly certain Zeke’s men would stop that kind of cyber-attack before it could happen—if it were even possible to do something like that given the technology the Others must have provided Neekoma’s clan. What else could explain their ability to hide so well in the desert…to have access to an underground tunnel system they’d used to escape?
Unfortunately, the Unknowns had left Carreon’s people with little in the way of otherworldly gifts. Only a few in their clan had the ability to heal, to reanimate. That wasn’t right or fair. More so than ever, Carreon demanded everything, especially Zeke’s stronghold and his power to see the future. “We need to send him a message. I want that to happen within the hour.”
Ernez went to the phone.
Carreon ran his free hand down Trinidad’s silky arm and pressed his face to her hair. Despite the smoke, she still smelled of honeysuckle and musk, steamy nights and reckless sex. Before he was through with her, she’d please him greatly. He trailed his fingers to her hand and took her cigarette.
She stiffened a bit in protest. Carreon knew it wasn’t fear. She seemed to have none. Unless that was an act. If she displeased him in the least, he’d have to find out sooner rather than later.
Easing back, he gave her a gentle smile, then leaned over—taking her with him—as he stubbed out the smoke. He used the empty plate Ernez had previously offered her, which he’d eventually put on the coffee table.
“I wasn’t finished,” she said.
“Neither am I.”
