Tina Donahue - Deep Within Me

The last place Liz wanted to be tonight was back at Carreon’s estate, the mansion hidden and all too secluded within miles of unforgiving desert. She recalled the damp smell of the tropical plants in his foyer, the scent of citrusy furniture polish, the sterile air in his safe room. His fingers around her throat, the intolerable pressure as his thumbs dug into her hyoid bone.

Instinctively, she drew in her shoulders at the remembered and terrifying sensation of her lungs burning. How her body had ached with the need for air. Unrestrained fury had flared in Carreon’s icy eyes. Blood dripped from his earlobe. She’d ripped his silver earring from it as she’d fought him.

Insane with rage that she’d come to stop him from harming anyone else—especially because it meant she was finally prepared to murder him—he’d pressed tighter.

Suppressing a shudder at the awful memories, Liz focused on the murky terrain surrounding them. How many more of Carreon’s men were out here tonight? Had he already sent backups to his stronghold? How could Zeke hope to fight all of them off by himself?

Knowing he couldn’t, Liz turned in her seat and reached into the back.

Zeke glanced at her. “What are you doing?”

“Papa, hand me that weapon.” She gestured to the one she wanted, a mean-looking sucker with a barrel as long as her arm.

Zeke spoke sharply. “No.”

Her father concurred, pushing her hand back.

Liz spoke through her teeth. “Give it to me.”

“Why?” Zeke asked.

“To fight with you.” To protect you.

Both men wore expressions that said they considered the notion beyond foolish.

Zeke hardly needed a woman, a pediatrician no less, looking out for him. He was a large man, six-three, his body in superb physical condition, his features those of his Comanche ancestors, rugged and masculine, his hair worn long like a warrior from some distant past. Moonlight skimmed his straight black hair, his broad shoulders and chest, emphasizing those hard slabs of coppery flesh.

Liz didn’t doubt the impressiveness of his physique and strength. However, they wouldn’t mean shit against gunfire

Above his left nipple—smooth and cocoa-colored—were three scars the size of pinpoints. Barely visible.

Prior to her having healed him, they’d been perfect circles, each the circumference of a bullet, and seemed to yawn open to show the rounds’ paths as they tore into his body and barely missed his heart. He’d been close to death when she’d first seen him. However, serenity, not fear, flooded his expression. He’d resisted her healing power, not wanting to come back, eager to be with his daughter Gabrielle again.

No matter Liz’s ability or her father’s to reanimate, she knew a part of Zeke was still on the other side with his child, always would be. He was too careless with his safety, too worried about others, never himself.

If she lost him forever, his body too destroyed for her to heal or as a last resort to reanimate…

Liz couldn’t finish the horrible thought. She tried to reason. “You can’t possibly fight all of Carreon’s men by yourself. If I’m armed—”

“That would be the worst thing possible. Listen to me,” he said, interrupting her again. “You’ve never fired a weapon before. You could end up shooting me and your father.” He checked his side-view and rearview mirrors. “There’s no reason to even discuss this. No one’s following us.”

“Maybe not here,” she argued. “But Carreon might have already sent more men to his stronghold. Even though he’s too much of a coward to fight for it himself, he’s not about to give up as much as an inch of his territory.”

Zeke accelerated. The Jeep bounced over the rugged terrain. “They’d never get there before we do. It’s only a few miles away.”

He couldn’t be serious. Carreon’s men were everywhere, hiding like vermin. Surely, Zeke knew that…and most likely didn’t care. Liz’s concern for him intensified. “What if you’re wrong?”

“You’re not getting a gun.”

“But—”

“A few minutes ago, you fell asleep or passed out. You do that while you’re firing an assault rifle that’s fully automatic and we might all be dead before your finger slips from the trigger.”

Liz stared at him, not understanding. Previously, he’d asked if she’d fallen asleep. Now, he was claiming that she’d possibly passed out? When?

She recalled none of it. One moment they’d been escaping Carreon’s stronghold, the next the Jeep had stopped, and Liz had no idea why. She had no sense of losing time, not even a moment. As Zeke had driven them across the desert, Liz’s thoughts had been on her father. For some reason, she kept recalling the pain on his face when Zeke had helped him to his feet at the stronghold…how she’d fallen to her knees and laid her hands on his ankle, healing it.

Ordinary stuff for her in an extraordinary night. Including Zeke having looked at her so oddly earlier, panic clearly etched on his features.

“I didn’t pass out,” she insisted, then cleared the catch in her throat. “I’m fine.” Rarely had she felt as alert or jittery, her pulse points pounding.

Zeke snuck a peek at the rearview mirror. To exchange a glance with her father? Neither of them commented. The vehicle rattled as it hit a particularly rough spot. Rocks pinged against the undercarriage. Wind whipped past.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Zeke said.

His baritone rumbled within the small confines of the Jeep, the sound deep, rich, soothing.

And a lie. Liz heard his uncertainty.

She flinched at the two-way radio’s static.

Slowing a bit so he could drive with one hand, Zeke lifted the device to his lips. “Jacob?”

“Where are you?” Pain and worry colored his brother’s words. “You should have been here by now.”

“We’re fine,” Zeke assured.

“Then what’s taking so long?”

“I want to make certain we’re not followed. We’ll be there in less than an hour. Is Isabel taking care of your leg?”

“She did what she could, then left. So did the rest of the women.”

Zeke didn’t immediately comment. He took a turn in the road, glancing about as he did, then asked, “Left to go where?”

“To help the other men, I suppose. Some of them were probably hit like Samuel and me. I’m in my room.”

“Alone?”

“They told me to sleep. Actually, they more or less ordered me to do so.”

That didn’t make sense to Liz.

If Zeke thought the same, he didn’t show it. He depressed the radio’s button and asked, “You’re okay, though?”

“Just some pain. The bleeding’s stopped.”

“Hang tight. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.” Zeke signed off and put his radio in the cup holder between the seats as though everything were all right.

Not even close. Something weird was going on back at his stronghold.

Liz recalled weeks ago when Zeke had first brought her there to heal Jacob, who’d been shot by Carreon’s men, those rounds having struck him in his calves and belly. Women of varying ages had kept a vigil outside his room. Among them had been Kele—young and so beautiful—her desire for Jacob, her love and concern for his recovery quite evident.

He’d been wounded again tonight, yet Kele wasn’t watching over him as she had in the past.

“What happened to Kele?” Liz asked, then blurted, “Carreon’s men didn’t—”

“No. She wasn’t hit. The last I saw, she was taking care of Jacob.” He hesitated, then added, “She fought Carreon’s men with us tonight.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No.”

Liz frowned at his obvious lie, then at another thought she’d had earlier when she’d been in Zeke’s stronghold. “How did his men even know where to find you and your clan?”

Zeke sighed.

The sound was more telling than words, the same as when he’d spoken of Kele fighting beside him and Jacob. “Oh my God, did she lead Carreon’s men there because she was pissed about Jacob wanting me? Is that why she’s not with him now? Did your clan banish her from—”

“They wouldn’t do that without asking me first. Kele’s probably helping the others who were injured.”

And his people were allowing it, especially without his blessing, considering that she’d brought a boatload of misery on them?

As Liz was about to ask, she saw the outline of Carreon’s mansion. Her stomach twisted, the pain so acute she couldn’t speak. The building’s decorative lights were still on, the same as when she’d come here earlier, hoping to stop Carreon even if it meant risking her life. All that had mattered was saving Zeke, his people, her father.

Zeke stopped the Jeep well back from the one she’d driven, then warned her, “Do not get out of this vehicle.”

“Let me drive the other one to your stronghold. I can follow—”

“No. I don’t want you driving anything. We’ll have to leave it here.” He spoke to her father. “Don’t let her take any of the weapons.”

“I won’t.” He scooted closer to the cache, his body blocking them.

With his assault rifle in hand, Zeke exited the vehicle and ran toward the other Jeep.

Liz leaned against the dashboard, dividing her attention between him and the surroundings. Her palms were wet, her belly churning at the prospect of Carreon’s men charging out of the shadows, weapons drawn, aiming them at Zeke.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, not that, please.

The area remained quiet, deserted.

Zeke entered the vehicle and turned the key to illuminate the dashboard without starting the motor. His features looked ghostly in the faint light.

“We can’t let anything happen to him,” Liz said.