Tina Donahue - Deep Within Me

“We can’t,” she insisted, wanting to face him but afraid to take her focus off Zeke.

Her father murmured, “If anything does happen to—”

“Oh, please, don’t say that. It can’t.”

“I know, I know.” He softened his voice even more, the way he always had when Liz was a child and something had frightened her. A monster she just knew was waiting for her beneath the bed. A spider on the ceiling. A growling dog. “He’ll always have me to heal him. I promise you that.”

Liz tensed at her father’s words. She found it difficult to pull in a full breath. Why had he said Zeke would always have him for healing? What about her abilities? She still had the gift. She’d proved it by healing her father’s ankle not more than a half hour earlier.

She was all right, damn it. He must have known that.

Liz blurted, “I didn’t pass out or fall asleep before.”

He didn’t comment.

“You know that, don’t you,” Liz pressed.

“We’ve all been under a strain tonight.”

What kind of an answer was that? Liz should have asked but couldn’t bring herself to do so.

Minutes ticked by. Zeke’s upper body continued to move as he either deleted the data on the GPS or disabled it.

Liz squirmed in her seat, wondering why he didn’t simply shoot it out and get it over with. Unless he was as worried as she that someone nearby might hear the gun’s report and race here even faster.

Come on, her mind pleaded. Hurry up.

Even if there was no one nearby at the moment, she sensed Carreon’s lieutenants moving closer, prepared to pounce. They’d take Zeke prisoner.

Worse, they’d send for Roberto.

At thirty, he was a man to fear, though the casual observer would never suspect that by his demeanor. Exceedingly handsome, Roberto had a calm, almost gentle manner despite his powerful body sculpted by exercise. Even with his muscular frame, there were no bulging biceps for him like Arnold Schwarzenegger or the Hulk. In a suit, he looked like a rising young star from Wall Street. A broker. Or perhaps an attorney.

The little finger on his left hand contradicted that notion. It was the only part of him that was physically flawed, the portion above the joint missing. Rumor had it Roberto had chopped it off with garden shears when he was only sixteen, wanting to prove to Carreon’s father that he could take anything. He wasn’t afraid of pain or death.

Torture was Roberto’s specialty. He had no qualms about using his skill on a woman or even a child. Making Zeke scream in agony wouldn’t bother him a bit. He’d force Zeke to reveal what the future held so Carreon could use the knowledge for his own purposes. Annihilating Zeke’s people, taking their land, enriching himself even further.

“I saw you bleeding, killed in the crossfire,” Zeke had said. “Your father too. Neither of you able to save the other. My vision showed Carreon’s men taking me prisoner, torturing me so I’d tell them the future. Do you want that?”

She wanted out of here. Now. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, tasting blood.

“He’s going to be fine,” her father said and touched her shoulder.

Just as he had when she’d been so focused on her memory of healing his ankle, reliving that moment repeatedly. Why? It had been a minor injury, certainly nothing like bullets near a man’s heart or in his gut. Yet her concentration on that one event had been so acute, Liz hadn’t responded to Zeke shouting her name. She’d heard his worry but hadn’t said anything.

Because she hadn’t wanted to or couldn’t?

Apprehension kept Liz from asking. She rested her hand on her father’s. “I can’t lose him, Papa.”

“You won’t.”

Liz squeezed his fingers, wanting to feel relieved, unable to do so. As long as Carreon lived, there would always be danger.

To the right, something caught her attention. Liz stiffened, expecting the worst.

It was only dirt spiraling in place, driven by the wind. A moment passed before she remembered to breathe. The dust devil hit and shook the Jeep. Its spray of pebbles and sand sounded like muted gunfire striking the vehicle.

Liz gripped the dash and turned back to Zeke. What was taking so long?

He leaned toward the passenger seat, fooling with something on it. She tried to recall anything being there, but—

Her thoughts paused at Zeke dousing the dashboard’s light. On his run back to their vehicle, he concentrated on the area surrounding them. His expression said they were still alone. For the moment.

Liz leaned over as he opened the door. “Did everything go all right?”

“Yeah.” He tossed the other vehicle’s keys next to his two-way radio. “All the data’s gone.” Once he’d secured his assault rifle, Zeke pulled away.

Only thirteen miles separated this location from his stronghold. Liz prayed they’d make it this time. She kept scouring the landscape, waiting for something awful to happen.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Zeke said.

Liz nodded absently. They’d just reached the vehicle with Carreon’s lieutenants inside. Several animals, possibly coyotes or maybe wild dogs, were crouched a distance away. Their eyes glittered in the available light. No doubt, they were waiting for the Jeep to pass so they could investigate the carnage undisturbed.

Without meaning to, Liz moaned.

“I had to do it,” Zeke said.

Beneath his apathetic tone, she heard soul-deep sorrow and guilt. He’d never wanted any of this. He’d told her how he hated his gift…how he wished only to live his life in peace. Something Carreon and his kind wouldn’t allow.

“I know.” She rested her hand on his forearm. “I don’t blame you. Please don’t blame yourself.”

He pulled in a deep breath that seemed to sap his strength, then sighed it out. “I don’t.”

Liar. He was a good man, generous and kind, risking his life repeatedly to protect those he loved. If he’d been born into different circumstances, he may have been a star athlete, his powerful build dominating the football field. Or he might have gone into law enforcement, pursuing his sense of justice that was as much a part of him as his coppery skin and dark eyes.

Brutality didn’t come easily to Zeke Neekoma, not even after all he’d suffered and lost. Liz hoped it never would.

As she had earlier, she rested her hand on his thigh. This time, Zeke covered her hand with his own as though he feared she’d remove it.

They drove in silence. Clearly, none of them was able to think of acceptable conversation. Her father cleared his throat. A nervous reaction to something that worried him? An unconscious one? Liz decided against asking, knowing he’d lie to her just as Zeke had about everything being all right.

It wasn’t. Wouldn’t be as long as Carreon ruled. He’d wrested power from his father two years earlier, ordering his lieutenants to assassinate the man. His brothers, all products of different mothers, had gone into hiding, knowing he’d have them murdered next. Carreon demanded a clear and permanent path to ruling his clan. Once he’d taken over, he ended the fragile truce his father had established with Zeke’s people. Carreon’s 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.