Night Resurrected (23 page)

“I had no choice. She was going to

carve you up—or worse—if I didn’t

distract her somehow.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, then

winced as pain twinged. She certainly

wanted to believe him, but could she?

“You could have pulled a gun on them

instead of screwing her,” she suggested

blandly.

His eyes were cool. “If only it were

that easy.”

“Hmm. So how many times did you

feel the need to wash after you touched

me?”

Now his mouth relaxed into a smirk.

“You know the answer to that.”

And well she did, for previously

when traveling together they’d slept

close every night whether they had sex

or not. He certainly hadn’t rushed off to

a nearby creek at the first opportunity.

He’d made it clear the proximity was

partly to keep her from running away,

and she believed him.

At the time, she accepted his decree

with the practicality of knowing he

wouldn’t hurt her, and that being with

him would actually help protect her—

from the other bounty hunters as well as

zombies and any other dangers that might

approach. Aside from that, she’d been

waiting to catch him off-guard and take

the opportunity to run.

Now, after going with him to the

creek, she had to admit he was right: it

felt good to wash away the last bit of

grime and blood. And the cool water

soothed her swollen, throbbing face. But

Ian had insisted she leave Dantès

behind,

and

that

made

her

uncomfortable.

She was treading water, aware of the

softly fading light, listening for the

telltale
ruuuuuuthhhh,
when he swam

over to her. Her heart began to pound

when she recognized the look in his

eyes.

“My, how quickly you’ve moved on.

Lacey would be devastated,” she said

when he took her arm and drew her

toward him in the water.

“Damn, Remy, did you have to

remind me? Nothing like a downer to

ruin the mood.” His expression indicated

he wasn’t joking.

One of her hands was on his broad,

sleek shoulder, and their feet brushed as

she frog-kicked to stay afloat. He

brought her closer and they kissed, his

mouth warm and soft over her chilled

lips.

Remy allowed herself to ease into the

kiss, pushing away the flicker of memory

from the unexpected, knee-weakening

kiss Wyatt had given her out of anger.

But it wouldn’t go, that flare of memory.

And so she kissed Ian harder, trying to

drum up more interest.

He made a soft sound into her lips

and curved his arm around her waist,

pulling her up against him. She was still

wearing her shirt and panties, but it

hardly mattered: the fabric plastered

against her like a second skin, and he

was bare from the waist up. His body,

strong and warm, pressed into her

curves. And from the growing hardness

between his legs, it was clear he’d

managed to get beyond any distracting

thoughts of Lacey.

But it wasn’t quite so easy for Remy

to dismiss her distractions—and the dark

memories lingering at the edge of her

mind—and she pulled away. For a

moment she thought Ian wasn’t going to

release her, but after peering into her

eyes in the dim light, he did.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said lightly, knowing

what he was really asking. “I’m not

interested in being your consolation

prize for subjecting yourself to Lacey,

although I am grateful you chose to do

so.” She paddled backward easily,

feeling his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t asking for a quid pro quo,”

he replied. She could make out his

irritated frown. “You’re just damn hard

for a guy to resist.”

“Not for some,” she muttered before

she could stop herself, thinking of Wyatt.

Fortunately, her feet touched the bottom

then, and she turned and waded out of

the water.

Ian didn’t say anything, but he

followed her back to shore. They

gathered up their things in silence and he

led the way to the old firehouse. Dantès

was ecstatic to see his mistress again,

and she and Ian fell into their old

routine: he built a fire, using an old sink

to contain it, while she scrounged

through his supplies—or whoever the

packs in the Humvee belonged to—for

sustenance.

As they dined on beer, smoked fish,

dried apples, and some soft, flat bread,

she felt Ian’s attention coming back to

her in between him listening to sounds of

the darkening night.

“I still can’t figure out,” she said, as

much out of curiosity as to divert his

attention from her, “whether you double-

crossed Lacey and Goldwyn or whether

you double-crossed me. You showing up

when you did, and then me finding Lacey

so close by . . . I can’t imagine that was

all an accident.”

“Not many things in this world are an

accident. But believe me when I say I

have no allegiance whatsoever to Lacey

or Goldwyn.” He took a drink from a

bottle of beer, holding her with his eyes

as he set it down. “I want that crystal,

Remy.”

She had a momentary pang of

surprise. “But you know I don’t have it.”

Now his face changed. “What do you

mean you don’t have it?” For the first

time, she saw real anger in his

expression.

“You heard me tell them I don’t have

it. You said you
knew
I didn’t have it.”

“What do you mean
you don’t have

it
?” His voice was flat and hard, and a

flare of nervousness rushed through her.

“I saw you with it when the zombies

attacked.”

“I . . . don’t know where it is. I lost

it. It came out of my pocket. Probably

when I was running away from the

zombies.” Remy wasn’t certain why she

didn’t tell him that Wyatt had stolen it.

Well of course she knew why she didn’t

tell him: she didn’t want to have to

compete with Ian to get it back. Or to

mete out her revenge on him for taking it.

“You
lost
the Mother crystal?” His

voice was deathly low and his eyes . . .

they were hard and glittery and furious.

“I didn’t think you knew about it,”

she said. “You never said anything

before.”

“ I
didn’t
know, dammit. I suspected

you knew where it was, but I didn’t

know you had it until you brought the

fucking thing out and showed it to the

zombies. If I had known you were

carrying it around all the time, back then,

I . . .” He turned away, his jaw clenching

visibly.

“You what? Would have taken it

from me before? You would have left

me to Seattle?” She was getting angry

now, and damn it, her eyes were

growing wet with furious tears.

“No, Remy. Have I ever hurt you?

Haven’t I protected you, and even saved

your ass more than once?”

“But it was all because of the crystal.

That’s why you took care of me: you

figured I’d lead you to it at some point.

Or you’d take it from me. If you’d known

I had it, things would have been a lot

different.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying to

me? There’s no way you protected that

thing for years and suddenly lost it in

one night.”

She lifted her chin, crossing her

arms, speared him with her glare. “Feel

free to search me. It’s not as if you

haven’t seen everything before.”

“I’m going to have to,” he said,

standing suddenly. “I can’t take that

chance.”

“Fine.” She stood, too, and whipped

off her damp shirt, then yanked down her

jeans. “Here you go. Have at it. Want me

to take off my bra and panties too?”

Ian glared at her for a minute, then

snatched up her jeans and felt through

them quickly. He did the same with her

shirt then tossed them back at her. “You

could have hidden it somewhere before

Lacey found you.”

“I

could

have,”

she

replied.

“Somewhere in the wilderness, where

the zombies could easily find it. As you

saw, they’re attracted to it. That would

make a
lot
of sense, seeing as how I

spent the last twenty years trying to keep

it safe.” She made no effort to hide the

derision in her voice.

He swore, his hand coming up to rub

his temples. Ian’s whole body seemed to

sag, his devastation obvious. If she

weren’t so furious and disappointed in

him, she might have felt sympathetic.

“Look,” he said at last, looking up

her. His eyes were terrible: cold and

bleak. “I’ve spent eight years risking

everything
for that crystal. I need to

have it. I have to find it.”

“You and everyone else, it seems.

Besides, I don’t even know what it is,”

she said. “I don’t know for sure that it’s

the Mother crystal.”

“Well it’s fucking something,” he

snapped. “Something important. Your

grandfather gave it to you, didn’t he?”

She nodded, swallowing around the

lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“What did he tell you about it?”

Remy shook her head. “Nothing. He

just told me to protect it.”

Ian turned away. “Damn,” he said.

His voice was quiet. Broken.

She watched him for a minute,

alternately wanting to smash him in the

head with something hard and pull him

into an embrace. He was a dangerous,

violent man . . . but there was something

at his core that didn’t fit with that

persona.

What was his weakness? His soft

core?

“What do you need it for?” she asked

finally. “What does it do? If it even is

the Mother crystal.”

He sat down heavily, his expression

drawn and dark. His hands hung loosely

over his crossed legs. “I need it because

the Elite want it.”

“The Elite? You mean the Strangers,”

she added to herself. “So you want it in

order to keep it from them—to use

whatever power it has. Or you want to

give
it to them. In exchange for

something, perhaps? Money? A crystal

of your own, so you can live

immortally?” A thought struck her, way

out of the blue, and she tilted her head,

looking at him closely. “Unless it has to

do with
her
.”

It was hardly noticeable, but she was

watching for it. His fingers spasmed,

then relaxed.

“Who is she?” Remy asked. “What’s

her name?”

Ian looked up, his eyes boring into

hers. She caught her breath at the odd

light in his gaze; she couldn’t tell if it

was loathing or despair. “Liana. Her

name is Liana.”

She opened her mouth to ask more,

but he stood abruptly. “That’s it.” He

held up a hand to ward her off, then

looked down at her. His expression was

not pleasant. “It occurs to me that your

companion Wyatt might somehow have

acquired the crystal—with or without

your knowledge. If that’s the case, you’ll

help me get it from him.”

“Or?” she retorted, her pulse spiking.

“I have no allegiance to anyone. I’ll

do whatever I have to do to get it. You

can count on it.”

Chapter 12

T
he last time Remy was in Envy, she’d

thrown a snake at Wyatt. Literally.

With that tense moment long past, she

couldn’t hold back a smirk as she and

Ian approached the walls of the city. It

had been sort of funny.

Wyatt had been chasing her and

Dantès

through

a

deserted,

dirty

underground hallway and when she

finally came to a set of stairs that offered

escape, they’d encountered a snake. It

wasn’t a big snake—not like the ones

that lived in the old sewer tunnels—but

it was much bigger than those little