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  “Do you have any new information on Red and Morgan?” Raphael asked. He had no doubt his brother would know more than him and Catherine. Roark was nothing if not thorough.

  Michael glanced over his shoulder. “Nothing beyond the reward for their capture,” he said, but his expression told a different story. Even as kids, Raphael had always been able to tell when Michael was lying. His brother had gotten better at deception over the years—they both had in order to survive, but his eyebrow still twitched when he lied. Or in this case, withheld the truth.

  Raphael stopped as Michael’s words registered. “There’s a reward? What kind of reward?” And why was this the first time he was hearing about it?

  His dark gaze flicked to him. “Roark had me issue a bulletin before I left,” Michael said without further explanation.

  Dread seeped into Raphael’s bones. If people in no-man’s-land knew there was a reward for Red and Morgan, then no place would be safe. He thought about the dead nomads they’d encountered. Had they known about the reward? Was that why they were dead?

  Raphael quickly dismissed the idea, since bulletins weren’t issued in no-man’s-land. The fence wasn’t the only divide between the republics and this area; communications were also kept out. For all intents and purpose, no-man’s-land was perpetually in the dark. “What exactly did the bulletin say?” Raphael asked.

  “Fifteen thousand credits for the person or people who bring in Red and Morgan.” He shrugged as if the whole conversation was boring him. Maybe it was. Michael always was a little different. Even as a child he’d been detached.

  “If you needed credits, all you had to do was ask.” Raphael frowned and looked at his brother with fresh eyes. He peered beneath his disheveled appearance to the heart of the man.

  “Stop staring at me,” Michael said. “I don’t need your pity or your credits.”

  “Red and Morgan aren’t in the republics,” Raphael said, instead of asking the question he wanted to ask. He’d have to wait until he could get his brother alone. “Why would Roark send that message out? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “The notification wasn’t for the republics. It went out to no-man’s-land,” Michael said.

  Raphael flinched. “That’s impossible. Not even Roark can broadcast to this area without permission.”

  “When are you going to learn?” Michael laughed, an ugly grating sound that hurt to listen to. “Roark can do anything he wants and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop him.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “What are you really doing here, Michael?” Raphael asked, watching for the telltale sign to indicate a lie. He’d asked him before, but his brother had brushed off the question with a nonanswer. Raphael had planned to wait, but now it seemed imperative to know.

  “Like everyone else in no-man’s-land, I’m trying to collect.” Michael’s voice nearly gave Raphael frostbite for all the emotion it held.

  “You’ve never cared about credits,” he said.

  “Things change,” Michael said. His brow twitched, exposing the lie.

  Chaos wasn’t concerned about rewards or Morgan Hunter, but she’d sworn to the commander that she’d do her best to bring his granddaughter back and that’s what she planned to do. Roark putting a bounty on their heads didn’t help her cause. The job had already been difficult. Greed made even the sanest person crazy.

  She realized it was a good possibility she’d have to go through Michael to fight her way out of this place. Chaos had no doubt she’d lose Raphael if she did. So much for future relationship plans—not that she’d made any. Or even thought about making any plans with Raphael. But they had shared a few precious moments.

  Chaos looked at Michael. He avoided her gaze. Something was amiss in his story and she was determined to find out what. “Why would Roark send you in, when he could wait for someone to bring Morgan and Red to him?” she asked, genuinely curious. “I mean credits are nice, but there has to be more to it.” Roark struck her as someone who loved to delegate duties. Without Michael around he had no one to order around.

  “I suppose it’s because I’ll bring them back alive,” he said, not sparing her a glance. “Can’t say the same for the people who received the bulletin.”

  Chaos’ heart did a nosedive to her knees. What if Red was killed before she could reach her? What would she do then? She couldn’t exactly bring Gina Santiago’s body back to IPTT and expect the commander to understand.

  Raphael grabbed Michael’s arm and hauled him to a stop. “Why does Roark want them dead?”

  “They’re a threat to his political campaign. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check in.” Michael reached into his pack and pulled out a navcom. He pressed a button and spoke into a small microphone. “Target is still at large,” he said. “Repeat, target has yet to be located.”

  Roark’s voice crackled. “You know what needs to be done. Let me know when you find them.”

  “Affirmative.” Michael turned the device off.

  “We could’ve used that earlier,” Chaos said. It would’ve come in handy, since her navcom hadn’t worked since they crossed the fence.

  “Doubtful,” Michael said. “It only works with its twin. It would have to be rewired to send a message out anywhere else.”

  So much for contacting the commander to warn him about the bounty. The navcom wouldn’t do much good if all it could do was contact Roark. Of course, she might get some personal satisfaction from telling him exactly where he could go.

  “Do you plan to kill them when you find them?” Chaos asked.

  “No,” Michael said. “I already told you, I intend to bring them back alive.”

  Chaos watched Raphael tense. “Back to what exactly? Prison? A tribunal? Will the law be involved in any way?” Doubtful given Roark’s actions to date. Chaos had the overwhelming urge to shoot something or someone. Her gaze landed on a likely candidate.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” Michael said.

  “And you aren’t exactly forthcoming with answers,” she said. “You did say you planned on bringing them both back, correct?”

  “Are you deaf or are you just trying to annoy me?” Michael asked. “I’m taking them both to Roark. That’s clear enough for even you to understand. Honestly, brother, I don’t see what you see in this woman.” He gave Raphael a censorious look.

  Chaos couldn’t let him have Red. Before she could tell him so, Raphael reached out and squeezed her arm, silencing her.

  He looked at Michael. “We’ll decide what to do with Morgan and Red, when and if we find them.”

  They traveled on in tense silence. No one felt the need to speak, but there was no doubt plans were being made. Even the closeness she’d felt with Raphael before meeting up with his brother had somehow fractured. A wedge by the name of Michael Travers Vega had been driven between them. She missed the connection, missed their bantering. And wondered if they’d ever get it back.

  Demery exited the vehicle with a grim expression on his face. The sun had gone down, so he carefully removed his protective suit. He approached Morgan and Red, debating how to tell them the truth. Perhaps, if he had sufficient time to explain, Morgan would voluntarily give up some of his blood. Demery was sure he could convince Reaper to take less, if he had the time and Morgan’s cooperation. He opened his mouth to ask, but caught the sheriff’s narrow-eyed expression. His wolf was suspicious—not that Demery could blame him. He’d be if he were in Morgan’s position.

  “What’s happening?” Red asked. “What did Reaper want?”

  “It’s taken care of,” Demery said in lieu of explanation. He couldn’t exactly blurt it out and take the chance that they’d bolt. He needed a drink. Maybe after a few games of zigzag quartz, he’d come up with the right approach.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, looking at Morgan.

  Reaper exited the vehicle behind him. “It means you will be our guests for tonight,” he said. It wasn’t a request.

  “Demer
y?” Red asked. “What is he talking about? I thought you were going to get the item and we’d be on our way.”

  “We will. Later I’ll explain everything.” He clasped her arm and their gazes met briefly. “You just have to trust me. I promise we’ll be out of here by tomorrow.” Demery didn’t look at Morgan. He grabbed his pack without explaining further and went toward the vehicle containing Melea. What else could he say to Red that wouldn’t upset her? Nothing. So he said nothing. She’d forgive him eventually. They both would once they learned why he’d agreed to the deal. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, Demery knew it wasn’t the truth. Red would kill him the first chance she got. That’s what an alpha female did when faced with the threat of losing her mate. And Red would definitely never forgive him. Fortunately, she was in good company.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Morgan said.

  “So do I,” Red said. “What do you think he did? It’s not like Demery to be this cagey.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever he’s up to doesn’t bode well for us,” Morgan said. “The scent of the big man has changed to one of anticipation. I can smell it and depravity in his sweat. He practically vibrated with excitement when he said we’d be staying the night.”

  Red inhaled. The rancid odor remained trapped on the hot breeze. “He’s not an Other, is he?”

  Morgan shook his head. “No, he’s something far worse.”

  “Is that why he smells funny?” Red asked.

  “Yes. He reeks of perversion and violence.”

  Her grandfather had warned her that there were worse things out there than unknowns. She hadn’t believed him at the time. She’d thought he was just being overly protective. Red realized now she should’ve listened. Her life was in shambles. They were severely outnumbered by Sand Devils, whose pure-blood leader went out of his way to appear animalistic. She didn’t know how he’d accomplished such a feat, but she had no intention to stick around and find out. They needed to grab Demery and get out of here.

  Her attention turned to their dreadlocked guide, who’d disappeared into another vehicle. Demery was up to something. She could tell by the way he carried himself and the fact he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye since they met up with the Sand Devils. She trusted this man, this vamp, with her life. Had grown to like him and depend on him as any tactical team member would. He’d stood by her when Nuria had turned on her. It hurt Red’s heart to think her trust might have been misplaced.

  Morgan was right. The change in Demery did not bode well for them. His explanation had better be a good one.

  Red glanced at the shadows of the mountains in the distance. With the sun gone, they looked almost purple against the sky. People began to set up camp, using the vehicles as both homes and protective walls against the elements. She’d read about circling the wagons, but she’d never witnessed it until now. Except these weren’t wagons and this wasn’t the Old West. The Old West was civilized compared to this place and these people.

  Music played from somewhere on the other side of the makeshift settlement. Women started to sway. This music wasn’t like what the Sand Moles had played. It was deeper, more primal. It rattled Red’s chest with its thumping beat. The women continued to dance, then one by one they shed their clothes. Some playfully hid their nudity, while others boldly flashed their curves.

  Red’s mouth dropped open at the brazen display.

  The Sand Devil men watched the dancers, their eyes aglow. Some had already started to strip, baring their bodies so they could join the dance. They were less graceful than the women, but no one seemed to notice. Other men simply touched themselves, while the women shimmied seductively in front of them, bending at the waist.

  “What’s happening?” Red asked, as the tone of the dancing turned carnal. The men who’d taken their clothes off were stroking their shafts suggestively. Red had seen plenty of naked men in her time. She wasn’t bothered by the nudity, but she didn’t care for what they were doing.

  One of the men grabbed a swaying naked woman and slung her over his shoulder. His muscles bunched as he twirled her around and laughed. The woman screamed, but not in fright. He slapped her bare bottom, then probed it with his thick fingers. She squealed loudly and squirmed, but didn’t try to push him away. If anything, it looked as if she was enjoying the attention.

  “You’ll do,” he said.

  The man strode off to lie in front of one of the vehicles. Rags had been tossed in a pile to form a makeshift rest pad. He dropped the woman onto them and mounted her without prelims. She didn’t seem to mind, if the moans coming from her were any indication.

  Red flushed and looked around nervously. “What are they doing?” she asked, as couple after couple paired off. No one sought privacy. They simply dropped where they felt like it and began rutting.

  “It’s called an orgy,” Morgan said. “It’s when couples have sex in a group.” He sounded like he was speaking from experience.

  “Have you ever participated in one?” she asked.

  Morgan blanched. “No, not exactly my style, but I have witnessed them before.”

  Red was silent for a few moments. “I don’t think I like the Sand Devils,” she said, then scooted closer to him. “They’re not like Gray’s group.” Red wished they were back with the Sand Moles. It didn’t matter that she’d shot their leader. They were still preferable company to these people.

  Morgan placed his hand on her waist and pulled her close, then leaned in to nuzzle her ear. She thought he was trying to comfort her, until he whispered, “If the situation deteriorates, we may have to leave in a hurry. There won’t be a lot of notice. If I tell you to run, I want you to head straight for the mountains and don’t look back.”

  chapter seventeen

  W

  hy must they look so fucking happy? They were in the middle of nowhere; roasting and still they looked at each other like lovesick buffoons. Catherine’s scent was all over Raphael and his covered her. It was impossible to discern where one began and the other ended. Which made being around them unbearable. Michael questioned his brother’s sense of loyalty. Raphael swore he was all about family, but was he? It didn’t appear so, if Raphael was challenging his intentions.

  Michael wanted to tell his brother the truth. Had tried on many occasions, but each time he opened his mouth the chip in his brain sent pain cascading through his body. By the third time it happened, Michael knew it was a warning of some kind. Somehow the chip had figured out a way to protect itself and was behaving like a cornered animal. His gaze moved over his brother.

  Oh, Raphael, my dearest Raphael. Notice me.

  At least Michael would no longer have to worry about Raphael. He’d be well taken care of, if this trip didn’t turn out as Michael planned. He wanted to trust Catherine Meyers, but like him, she had an agenda. Michael could sense it, even though she tried to hide it from him. Little girl, little girl, don’t you know it’s not nice to trick a vamp?

  Get back! Stay away!

  The shadow slunk out of view, but its laugh rumbled like thunder in its wake, hurting his ears, clouding his mind. Pretty colors, dancing and twirling out of sight. Michael tried to follow, but his eyes refused to focus.

  The wind shifted, erasing the rainbow, bringing contempt and deceit. Michael raised his head and inhaled. His mind cleared enough to ascertain that enemies lurked up ahead. There were three—no, five. They hoped to surround them. They thought because their clothes were not rags that they’d make easy victims. Michael grinned to himself. Fresh blood was so much better than the hot, rancid brew floating in his canteens.

  A bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Michael clasped his hand over his mouth to hide his fangs. “Excuse me,” he said absently.

  “What’s so funny?” Catherine asked, her delicate features pinching in distaste.

  She’d probably make the same face if he pulled her head off and drank from her skull. The chip pulsed, urging him to act. Michael’s fingers twitched, b
ut Raphael was watching. Always watching her. If he didn’t know better, Michael would think his brother didn’t trust him. Raphael was so focused on her every move that he didn’t notice the real threat, gliding in over the dunes.

  “Inside joke. You wouldn’t understand,” Michael said, wondering how long it’d take her and Raphael to realize they were being hunted.

  It was probably wrong not to say something, but Michael was disappointed that his brother’s senses had dulled to such a degree. There was a time when he’d have located them first.

  Oh, Raph, stop thinking with your dick for a moment and open your mind.

  He didn’t of course. Raphael always had odd priorities. Fortunately for him, Michael always focused on the details. The shadows skipped through his mind, a none-too-gentle reminder that that was not the case anymore.

  Damn phantoms! Leave me in peace!

  A cackle was their only reply.

  The delusions were getting worse. The phantoms’ visits had increased. Their time spent with him grew longer every day. Roark didn’t need to press the button for the A.I. chip to do its job. It continued to act on its own. Roark had probably had it specially developed at one of his research labs. A bio-weapon, if Michael were to guess.

  Green button, green button go away. Come again some other day.

  The threesome continued their journey as the band of thieves closed in. They were quiet, but the sand gave their location away. It whispered their impending arrival in a time-weary voice.

  Catherine stopped. “Did you hear something?”

  Michael wanted to say yes, but the chip flared. He shook his head no. Raphael listened. Nothing but the sound of wind and sand answered.

  “Let’s keep going,” Raphael said, his gaze now moving cautiously over the dunes.

  Michael prepared for the upcoming battle by dropping his cumbersome pack onto the ground. The attack came from the left. The pureblood moved faster than expected. Michael had a split second to call out a warning before the man slammed into Raphael, sending them both sprawling into a dune. Pain pulsed through his skull. Michael gasped and nearly crumbled to the ground.