lieutenants killed indiscriminately, not caring if they slaughtered children, women or the aged.
Liz fisted her free hand, outrage and hatred urging her to strike something. To destroy Carreon, a filthy coward. Fear and paranoia ruled him, so he’d actually believed Zeke would do anything to spare his own life. That after Gabrielle’s murder, Zeke would no longer fight capture or imprisonment. He’d want only to save himself from Carreon’s depravity.
Liz swore at the bastard beneath her breath.
“What did you say?” Zeke asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He squeezed her hand. “You can quit worrying, all right? We’re here.”
The mountain towered above them, its jagged peaks blotting out most of the sky from this position. Zeke drove around several boulders to a stand of trees, bushes and cacti, no doubt nourished by an underground stream. Threads of moonlight whispered over the vegetation, making it a study in light and dark with the shaded areas hiding what was within—the entrance to the clan’s stronghold.
The Others had built it during their brief time here.
Three of Zeke’s men were just inside the tunnel’s entrance, assault rifles raised. He slowed the Jeep, giving them time to recognize him. Once they had, his men nodded and granted him entry.
The tunnel was no less impressive than the other times Liz had seen it, the passage seeming to stretch for miles. Its twenty-foot-high walls were constructed of an alloy Zeke had said was from the Others, the metal unknown to the people on this planet. Near the ceiling, long tubes ran down each side, their blue-white light nearly blinding. The tires hummed with the vehicle’s speed, this ride as smooth as if they’d been on a newly constructed highway.
After what seemed like miles, Liz saw his clan’s other vehicles. Many of them bore bullet holes from tonight’s battle or earlier ones.
Unlike the first time Liz had been here, none of Zeke’s men came to the Jeep to greet him. The area was oddly deserted, dark reddish stains on the floor. Dried blood. She recalled the pools of it inside the stronghold, the spatters on the walls, doors shot out, the bodies of Carreon’s lieutenants.
She exited the vehicle when Zeke did, taking a moment to help her father.
He patted her hand. “I’m all right.”
“Good.” She wasn’t. With her arm linked through his, she walked with him to Zeke, taking his hand. “Why isn’t anyone outside like they were when you first brought me here?”
“They have injured to attend to.”
Of course. How could she have forgotten about that? The three of them moved as one to the stronghold’s enormous door. The width of a tank, it was made of the same material as the walls.
Zeke laid his hand on the control panel so it could read his palm and grant him entrance.
Liz waited for the remembered series of clicks, then the door sliding sideways, disappearing into the wall.
Nothing happened.
Zeke frowned.
She squeezed his fingers. “What’s the matter? Why didn’t it open?”
“It will.” He rubbed his palm against his jeans as though he needed to clean it of dirt and blood or wipe the sweat from it. Again, he placed his hand on the control panel.
The door didn’t move.
From behind them, the sound of a motor neared. Its brakes squealed briefly.
Alarmed at the thought of Carreon’s lieutenants, Liz turned and saw a van. The three men who’d been at the tunnel’s entrance exited the vehicle.
The stockiest of them—Ike, Liz recalled—studiously ignored her and her father as he went to Zeke. “What’s the matter?”
“The damn thing won’t open.”
Ike’s broad face flooded with concern. “You’re sure?”
Zeke inclined his head to the still-closed entrance. He’d once told Liz the barrier couldn’t be breached with blowtorches or the most powerful explosives on this planet. The damn thing was impenetrable…and they couldn’t get inside.
“Try again,” one of the other men said from behind.
Zeke had yet to move his hand from the panel.
“I’ve never stopped,” he said, then spoke to Ike. “Are all of Carreon’s men accounted for inside?”
“Yeah.” Ike stared at the control panel as one would an instrument they’d never seen before and didn’t understand. “We did a sweep. They’re dead except for the two we’ve taken prisoner.”
“Did you capture them anywhere near the computer systems?”
“No.” Ike frowned. “They were in the hall outside Jacob’s room.” His features went slack. “You think one of Carreon’s men actually changed the settings on this? When would any of them have had the time? Even if they did, how could they have known what to do?”
“I don’t know,” Zeke muttered. “What else would explain the damn thing not working?”
Despite the mild night, perspiration broke out on the back of Liz’s neck and between her breasts, making her feel oddly chilled. Holding back a shiver, she looked behind herself, the endless expanse of tunnel, those sickeningly bright lights. Similar to a hospital’s ER filled with gore and death. “Are we trapped out here?”
“No.” Zeke lifted his hand. “You try it,” he said to Ike.
The man’s thick black eyebrows inched up. “You’re sure?”
Given how Zeke tightened his fingers around hers, Liz sensed his mounting irritation and worry.
He kept it well hidden from his men, his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, go on.”
Ike slung the strap of his assault rifle over his left shoulder, then placed his hand on the device.
The expected clicks sounded—one, two, three. Silently, the door slid sideways, disappearing into the wall, showing the stronghold’s interior. Mahogany walls, electric torches, Comanche blankets, Indian art, the staggering buffalo totem, its size matching that of the stronghold’s massive door.
Although it was now possible for them to go inside, Zeke didn’t move. Nor did Liz or her father.
Yards away stood numerous members of Zeke’s clan. The men were in back, the women in front, led by Isabel. An older woman who’d never wanted Liz here…who’d frowned on Zeke’s desire for her.
She and the other women had their arms crossed over their chests, their bodies blocking entry into their domain.
Chapter Three
At a speed reaching one hundred miles an hour, Carreon raced north on I-25 through New Mexico’s Chihuahuan Desert. The bleak landscape might as well have been on the moon, it was that barren, colorless in the thin moonlight.
Given the hour, there was little to no traffic, certainly none from his enemies. Nor did Carreon worry about cops on this lonely stretch of road. His only desire was to put as much distance between himself and Zeke Neekoma as possible.
Carreon pressed harder on the Escalade’s accelerator, pushing the vehicle to one hundred and five, one hundred and ten miles per hour.
Because of Zeke, Liz was dead.
Had Dr. Munez died too?
Back at Carreon’s stronghold, the elderly man had kept shouting his daughter’s name and fighting to exit the Escalade.
Carreon had separated them in the past and, with her death, he’d made certain to do so in the future. He’d gripped the doctor’s arm to stop him from escaping, determined to keep him prisoner for his healing gift.
