The Tracker Page 9

  I flushed hotly and lowered my gaze. My God, that really was me. I wanted to deny my attraction to this man, but it was impossible. He was an artist. He missed nothing.

  He chuckled softly. “Why do I get the impression I’m the first man to see you like this?”

  Heat scalded my cheeks again. Because he was, but I wasn’t admitting that.

  I suddenly felt too exposed. I needed to get away from him.

  “Are we done here?” My voice came out sounding shrill. I forced myself to meet his gaze, my cheeks still on fire.

  He slapped the sketchpad closed. “Yes. You can go now, slave. Next time I will draw you in a different pose, a more erotic one, I think.”

  Next time? I swallowed hard. What if I didn’t want a next time? I tried not to think about what he meant by “more erotic”.

  His eyes flashed with mockery and his lips twitched. The old Tracker was back. He was making fun of me. Again.

  I moved to get off the bed, eager to get away from him. He stepped aside to let me pass, then flinched, letting out a soft hiss of pain. His leg buckled, and the next thing I knew, we were both falling back on the bed, me flat out on my back underneath him.

  I froze, my gaze darting to his. My mind flashed back to the other time I’d been smashed beneath him on this bed. Then, I’d been fully clothed. Now, I was buck naked. Arousal flared deep inside me, centering in my core.

  Neither one of us moved. Neither one of us spoke. His eyes slowly changed from a light gray to a dark silvery slate. His nostrils flared slightly. Then he dipped his head, just a bit, and I swore he inhaled, breathing me in.

  I flushed hotly, my gaze never leaving his. What did I smell like to him? Unable to resist, I breathed him in too, his clean masculine scent mixed with a hint of aftershave making me slightly dizzy with awareness. Damn, the man smelled as good as he looked.

  I stared at his mouth, at those lips that could spout harsh words, but had also spoken with gentle reassurance to help me relax so he could draw me. What would it be like if he kissed me? Would he be rough, demanding? Gentle, coaxing? Longing curled deep inside me.

  He leaned back on his arms, his gaze slowly roaming down my chest. My nipples puckered in response, awareness crackling between us.

  His gaze came back to mine. “You can deny you want me, slave, but your body is speaking to mine in a language as old as time. You should listen to it, follow its yearnings. You might actually enjoy the outcome.”

  I flushed even hotter, if that were possible. No. I don’t want to surrender. I don’t want to admit how badly I want him.

  He already knows.

  Mortified, I pushed against his chest, my hands coming into contact with a wall of muscle.

  “Get off me.”

  His lips twitched. He rolled sideways, setting me free. I leapt to my feet and immediately bent to gather up my clothes.

  “I’m going to follow that lead now.” He rose and strode for the door, wincing as he stepped on his right foot.

  I stared after him, then blurted, “What happened to your leg?”

  He paused, but he didn’t turn to face me. “War injury.” Then he headed out into the living room.

  War injury. I knew it.

  The apartment door closed behind him.

  I’m going to follow that lead now.

  That meant he was going to search for my sister. In broad daylight.

  That was dangerous. Had he forgotten people were hunting him?

  Or was he just desperate to get away from me?

  I dressed quickly and hurried for the door.

  Whether he wanted me tagging along or not, I was going with him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tracker

  I considered taking Gordon up on his offer to help me search for Jessica’s sister, then dismissed the idea. The rest of the dregs were probably all settling down now that the sun was up. I didn’t want to disturb them. I needed to do this alone. I knew it was dangerous to go out in broad daylight with a bounty on my head. And I could have waited until after I’d gotten some rest before following this lead. But I didn’t sleep much anyway. Sleep meant nightmares. And nightmares messed with my mind.

  The truth was I had to get away from my slave. She was too damn tempting. I’d seen the awareness in her eyes, the way her body had responded to mine touching hers. She wanted me whether she wanted to admit it or not. And I wasn’t sure if I could resist her.

  As an artist, I always noticed the details. While drawing her, I’d noticed every little detail about her. Her long, slim legs, the gentle swell of her small, perky breasts, the tiny indentation of her belly button, her cute, dainty-looking feet, the soft curve of her hips...She was stunning, perfectly feminine. And damn if I didn’t want her. Getting out of my apartment and away from her was as much for my own sanity as it was anything else.

  Now that I’d seen her feminine perfection, I wanted her even more. It had taken every ounce of my self-control to not touch that soft, creamy skin, to not palm those gorgeous breasts. To not lick and suck and taste her everywhere.

  I groaned.

  She’d been frightened at first, her big, beautiful hazel eyes wide and wary. Then she’d visibly relaxed while I’d sat on the edge of the bed to draw. She’d been a near-perfect subject, holding the pose without moving. Her body’s awareness of me had made it difficult for me to concentrate, which was a new one for me. I could generally draw without any distractions. But every time she swallowed, I noticed. Every time her eyes flicked to my face, I noticed. Every time she breathed, I noticed.

  She distracted me. Everything about her was a distraction.

  Drawing was my release, how I dealt with my past and the trauma I’d suffered. The sparring was more a physical release than any real therapy, at least for me. I’d only been trying to scare her when I hinted that I used killing to relieve the stress. But she was starting to get too close and I’d wanted to shock her into keeping her distance from me.

  Drawing Jessica’s perfect figure had helped me to relax for the most part, until the end when my leg had given out on me and I’d fallen on her. Then the sexual tension filling the air had nearly crackled with electricity and I’d forgotten all about everything except for the soft, feminine body beneath mine. It had taken all of my willpower not to take what I now craved with an obsession that was going to be my undoing. Her.

  The door in front of me jerked open and I stumbled back, startled. I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going, my mind consumed with my damn slave.

  Gordon cocked a bushy red brow. “You’re going out during the day? That’s risky.”

  It was a risk I was willing to take. To get away from her. And the sooner I found Jessica’s sister, the sooner I could get rid of her. “I’ve finally got a lead on Jessica’s sister. I want to check it out.”

  Luke and Ryan came down the corridor toward us, weaving back and forth, obviously drunk and returning from a night out. With them were two women, both blindfolded, prostitutes most likely. We had a rule that any women we brought home had to be blindfolded so they couldn’t give away our whereabouts.

  Ryan sniggered. “That slave of yours giving you blue balls? Wanna borrow Susan here for awhile?”

  It was impossible to imagine being with another woman when all I could think about was my slave. I turned away. “No, thanks.”

  Letting out a loud guffaw, Ryan smacked me on the shoulder, then they wandered off.

  Gordon glanced back at me. “Want me to go with you?”

  I couldn’t endanger my fellow dreg. It was one thing to put my own life in danger by going out in daylight, but I couldn’t do that to my best friend. “No. I think I can handle this. But thanks.”

  He hesitated. “Okay. Well, I’m going to bed then. Stay safe, man.”

  I nodded and headed down the dark corridor.

  I knew this place like a rodent knew its underground tunnels. Even in the dark. I knew how many steps would take me to the first turn, and that if I went
right I would end up in a continuous circle in the center of the maze, but if I went left, it would eventually take me back to the surface. It wasn’t that simple, of course. I had to count my steps to make sure I didn’t miss a turn one way or another. And there were a lot of turns.

  I could navigate the maze as well as, or better, than the rest of the dregs. Probably because of my tracking abilities and my attention to detail. Sometimes one of the other dregs ended up lost in here, and I was usually the one who fished him out. Whoever had built this maze hadn’t wanted anyone to find the end. But we’d found it, not long after we’d taken over the place. An escape hatch in the ceiling of the area we’d turned into our “workout room”. It opened up into what had once been a closet in the decrepit plantation home. We’d never had to use it yet, but in the event our hideaway became compromised, we might someday have to use that escape route to get away.

  Anyone else who entered the maze would likely get lost and possibly even die in here. Supposedly the spirits that haunted this place were the ghosts of those who’d gotten lost in the maze and died underneath the mansion. I didn’t know if that was true, though the place was indeed haunted by lost souls. The maze had likely been built back when the plantation home had been constructed, possibly to offer sanctuary to those fleeing from danger in those early times of American war and independence. The apartments had probably once been servants’ quarters, but had been modernized at some point over the years. The temperature stayed a near-constant sixty degrees, though sometimes it fluctuated a bit higher or a bit lower. That’s why I’d brought Jessica sweatshirts and comfortable long pants to wear. I couldn’t have her freezing down here.

  How had Jessica navigated her way around in here with nothing more than that tiny flashlight?

  I got as far as the final right turn that lead to the surface before I realized she was following me. Normally, I would have detected her the moment she stepped out of my apartment after me. But Gordon had stopped me, and then Ryan and Luke and the prostitutes had chatted for a moment, grabbing my attention. But the most distracting part—and the most embarrassing—were my own thoughts about her that had kept me from noticing she was trailing behind me.

  I paused, then slipped around the corner and waited for her to follow.

  She tiptoed forward, moving almost as silently as me. Feeling her way along the concrete wall, she stepped around the corner.

  I grabbed her, slapping a hand over her mouth and another hand around her waist, yanking her back against me.

  She let out a startled oomph and tried to break free. I spun her around, slamming her up against the wall, and pressed my body into hers.

  “Are you following me, slave?”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes huge with fight.

  I removed my hand from her mouth. She panted out several breaths, then whispered, “Yes. Well, kind of.”

  I lifted a brow. “Kind of? Explain yourself.”

  “Well, I have a photographic memory, so I memorized my way around in here that first day. I want to help you find my sister. I want to go with you.”

  She had a photographic memory? Interesting. She couldn’t be trapped in this maze any easier than I could. She could be an ally.

  No. Don’t go there.

  “You get your ass back to my apartment and wait for my return. It’s dangerous out there.”

  She squirmed against me. “I know that. I lived out there until I found you. But I’m not in as much danger as you are. I don’t have a bounty on my head. I can help you. I want to go with you. Please.”

  Our gazes locked in the dark tunnel. I wish I wasn’t so aware of her, but I felt every inch of her soft body smashed against mine.

  “I know some people out there.” She sounded desperate now. “I can show you where Eliza and I used to live. I can help you ask questions.”

  I sighed. “I don’t need you tagging along getting in the way. Now be a good girl and go back to my apartment and wait for me to come back.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t stand to be in there another day. I’m getting cabin fever. I need fresh air.”

  “Fine.” I released her and turned away, heading for the surface. I understood cabin fever. I’d been locked in a cell for most of the past fifteen years. She hurried after me, stumbling in the dark. I didn’t help her. I refused to make this easy for her. If she thought she could handle the gang wars going on in Augusta, then I wasn’t going to be the one to stop her. I had a good idea now what had happened to her sister, but I wasn’t going to share the information with her until I knew for certain. I still didn’t have a visual on the girl, just a word-of-mouth lead. I was hoping for a visual of some kind soon, so I could lock in on her and track her down.

  I reached the end of the tunnel and stepped out into the early morning sun.

  A crow gave a warning call from the trees above. A gray squirrel scrambled up a tree trunk off to my left, chattering a warning as it scampered away. The fresh scent of the Loblolly pines filled the air. I breathed in deeply. This place here in the woods reminded me of my home. It gave me a certain amount of peace, being in the forest. I longed to go to my home in the woods in northern Idaho, far from civilization. But until the bounties were removed from our heads, I needed to stick close to my dreg friends. We all needed to stay together. I would remain loyal to them until the bitter end. If they needed me, and if I needed them, we were all right here together.

  Jessica reached my side, letting out a soft huff.

  She’d found me here. How long before someone else did? It might be wiser, safer, to return to my home in Idaho. But the other dregs might need me, and I couldn’t abandon my only friends. We’d made a vow—a pact—to stick together, to help each other out, until the danger had passed.

  The danger might never pass.

  “Thanks for helping me out of the dark,” Jessica muttered, her sarcasm making my lips twitch in amusement. I had to admit my life hadn’t been dull from the moment she’d shown up.

  It took me a moment to realize I was now referring to her as “Jessica” and not “slave”. I was starting to grow comfortable around her, “attached” to her, something I knew not to do. I needed to keep my distance from this woman. I had a feeling she could destroy me if I let her.

  “You chose to follow me,” I reminded without an ounce of sympathy.

  She lifted frosty eyes to mine. “How do you see so well in the dark, anyway? I stumbled around blindly in there, but you walked on like it was broad daylight. It’s not normal. It’s not…human.”

  I looked away, my gaze scanning the forest around us. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not all human.” My words were soft, filled with melancholy. I sighed. I wasn’t supposed to feel emotions. I’d been taught to not feel anything. Yet this woman made me feel things I hadn’t felt since I was a child. Why?

  I watched a woodpecker land on a tree and rap its beak into the side of the trunk. Tap tap tap.

  Jessica tilted her head back, looking into my face. She waited, not speaking. And her silence, her patience, finally urged me to continue. “None of us dregs are all human. Our employer treated us like lab rats, injected us with hundreds of experimental drugs to test our reaction to them. Some of the drugs…hurt me. Others…made me stronger. I have the night vision similar to a cat, as do the other dregs. I’m stronger than a normal man, I heal faster than a normal human, and I can tolerate far more pain than a regular human male. I don’t need much sleep—only four or five each night, but I can easily function on less. Each of us dregs are like a machine, a robot. We were taught not to feel, to endure extreme hardships, horrendous torture. But drugs can only do so much, and in the end, I failed my employer when my leg wouldn’t heal properly. No drug could fix my injury.” I glanced down at her, not sure why I was telling her all this, but wanting her to know just the same. “And nothing in this world can fix my fucked-up mind.”

  She swallowed hard, her gaze never leaving mine. “That doesn’t stop me from wan
ting to help you.”

  I sighed, turning away from her. She might have good intentions, but she had no idea how screwed up I was. There was no fixing me.

  I headed toward the back of the mansion to the garage that housed my bike and all the other dregs’ vehicles.

  Jessica hurried after me. “Did you feel that ghost at the entrance?”

  I hardly noticed the ghosts anymore. “No. Did it scare you?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. I don’t think he wants to hurt us. He was just curious.”

  I snorted. “Curious about you, maybe. He already knows about my damaged soul.”

  That shut her up for a moment, but not for long. “So, what’s the lead you have on Eliza? Where do we go now?”

  “You’ll see.” We reached the garage.

  The garage had been built to look like a section of the rundown mansion. It was actually much newer, less than a year old, and blended in with the forest around it. We’d had it built after we’d discovered this abandoned place. Noah had researched the property online and discovered it was actually owned by the county, so we’d offered to buy it for cheap, and now we all owned the place. Anyone who came upon the old plantation home would think the garage was just a part of it. Though we kept it locked, no one had ever discovered it yet. Or if they had, they had no idea what it was or what it housed. Living beneath a haunted mansion had protected us for nearly a year now. I imagined someday someone might discover where we were hiding, but for now, we were safe.

  I headed for the overhead door that opened into the south side of the garage. It was painted to look like old, rotted wood and blended in with the rest of the mansion. I keyed the number code into the side of the building, then waited while the garage door opened. Jessica’s eyes went wide as she followed me into the huge garage filled with cars and motorcycles and other types of motorized vehicles.

  “Wow,” she murmured. “I didn’t even know this garage was here. Talk about good camouflage. Do the dregs own all of these?”