at Raul Marck. Rage blasted through her again at the realization that she’d lost her damned chance. All because of this woman.
But once again the bitch surprised her and said nothing about being stuck in the small dark place. Zoë felt her move and figured she was leaning against the wall. In the small windowless cube, the darkness was fully complete. Even with the door at the top open, the area was black and blacker.
“So do you want me to just say ‘hey you’ when I want to talk to you?” Zoë said after a long moment of silence. Silence, that is, except for the faint slithering sound as Mr. Snake tried to find a safe place to sleep again.
The low light came on again and Zoë found herself looking down at a long green snake tail. Clear of any markings but a long black stripe, the scales were a nauseating puke color.
“Nope, not poisonous.” She looked up at Zoë with a gleam of humor—and a bit of malice—in her dark blue eyes. “Figured I’d better check if we were going to be in here awhile.” Then the light went out. “And you can call me Remy.”
And that was when it all clicked into place.
She was hiding out with none other than Ms. Remington Truth.
Remy could hardly stand to breathe. The smell emanating from this woman—or her shirt, as she claimed—was so incredibly rank, it was like being in a room with
gangas
. Or rotting potatoes. Or something even worse.
But she supposed it was better than being in the company of Raul Marck and his much too-good-looking son. Who happened to kiss really well.
If she’d known the man she’d kidnapped at gunpoint three days ago was Ian Marck, she’d have figured out another way to escape the people who’d found her in the quiet little home she’d made for herself in Redlow. She still didn’t know what had possessed her to tell them her real name, but what was done was done.
And since she didn’t know how to drive those truck-like vehicles known as humvees, she’d had no choice but to seize the opportunity when she’d seen Ian climbing into one. Employing her handgun had seemed like the best way to induce him to take her on as a passenger. Since no one but the Elite and a few bounty hunters had mechanized vehicles, she figured it was the most expedient way to escape, since no one would be able to chase them.
Of course, she hadn’t realized what a horrible, bumpy trip it was going to be, over heaved-up concrete roads or the rough, uneven ground. Next time, she was going to walk or ride one of the wild mustangs that roamed throughout the area.
She shifted against the wall, still breathing through her mouth, and winced as pain radiated through her leg.
Damn.
The blood seeped through her jeans and she felt some of it trickling down into her sock and shoe. Now that she’d stopped moving, now that the adrenaline rush had ebbed, she realized how damn much it hurt.
Holy crap.
Pounding heat and spiraling pain.
Going through that window, ragged with glass, hadn’t been the best way to get inside the building. But it had been the fastest, and it wasn’t as if Remy hadn’t been injured in the past. But this…this was agonizing.
“So’d you knee him in the balls?” Zoë’s voice sounded faintly accusing. It rasped low and husky, as if it weren’t often used. “While you were fucking lip-locked? That’s damn nuked up.”
“No I didn’t knee him in the balls,” Remy told her from between tight teeth. Which was a mistake, because that meant that she drew in a breath through her nose. For a moment—a brief one—the stench overshadowed the flaming pain in her leg. “Although I would have if I’d had to.” She closed her eyes and continued. “I jabbed him in the gut, then kicked him in the shin.”
And then, surprised that she’d managed to get him to release her, she’d run toward the building where she’d seen the arrow come flying, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.
She still wasn’t quite sure.
“Ah. Girly fighting.”
Bite
But once again the bitch surprised her and said nothing about being stuck in the small dark place. Zoë felt her move and figured she was leaning against the wall. In the small windowless cube, the darkness was fully complete. Even with the door at the top open, the area was black and blacker.
“So do you want me to just say ‘hey you’ when I want to talk to you?” Zoë said after a long moment of silence. Silence, that is, except for the faint slithering sound as Mr. Snake tried to find a safe place to sleep again.
The low light came on again and Zoë found herself looking down at a long green snake tail. Clear of any markings but a long black stripe, the scales were a nauseating puke color.
“Nope, not poisonous.” She looked up at Zoë with a gleam of humor—and a bit of malice—in her dark blue eyes. “Figured I’d better check if we were going to be in here awhile.” Then the light went out. “And you can call me Remy.”
And that was when it all clicked into place.
She was hiding out with none other than Ms. Remington Truth.
Remy could hardly stand to breathe. The smell emanating from this woman—or her shirt, as she claimed—was so incredibly rank, it was like being in a room with
gangas
. Or rotting potatoes. Or something even worse.
But she supposed it was better than being in the company of Raul Marck and his much too-good-looking son. Who happened to kiss really well.
If she’d known the man she’d kidnapped at gunpoint three days ago was Ian Marck, she’d have figured out another way to escape the people who’d found her in the quiet little home she’d made for herself in Redlow. She still didn’t know what had possessed her to tell them her real name, but what was done was done.
And since she didn’t know how to drive those truck-like vehicles known as humvees, she’d had no choice but to seize the opportunity when she’d seen Ian climbing into one. Employing her handgun had seemed like the best way to induce him to take her on as a passenger. Since no one but the Elite and a few bounty hunters had mechanized vehicles, she figured it was the most expedient way to escape, since no one would be able to chase them.
Of course, she hadn’t realized what a horrible, bumpy trip it was going to be, over heaved-up concrete roads or the rough, uneven ground. Next time, she was going to walk or ride one of the wild mustangs that roamed throughout the area.
She shifted against the wall, still breathing through her mouth, and winced as pain radiated through her leg.
Damn.
The blood seeped through her jeans and she felt some of it trickling down into her sock and shoe. Now that she’d stopped moving, now that the adrenaline rush had ebbed, she realized how damn much it hurt.
Holy crap.
Pounding heat and spiraling pain.
Going through that window, ragged with glass, hadn’t been the best way to get inside the building. But it had been the fastest, and it wasn’t as if Remy hadn’t been injured in the past. But this…this was agonizing.
“So’d you knee him in the balls?” Zoë’s voice sounded faintly accusing. It rasped low and husky, as if it weren’t often used. “While you were fucking lip-locked? That’s damn nuked up.”
“No I didn’t knee him in the balls,” Remy told her from between tight teeth. Which was a mistake, because that meant that she drew in a breath through her nose. For a moment—a brief one—the stench overshadowed the flaming pain in her leg. “Although I would have if I’d had to.” She closed her eyes and continued. “I jabbed him in the gut, then kicked him in the shin.”
And then, surprised that she’d managed to get him to release her, she’d run toward the building where she’d seen the arrow come flying, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.
She still wasn’t quite sure.
“Ah. Girly fighting.”
Bite
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