Hope of the Future Page 7

  The blade slide over her neck—

  “Wake up!” Strong hands held her shoulders, shaking Hope over and over. Not recognizing the voice at first, Hope threw her entire body weight into shoving the person away.

  When she dragged open her eyes, it was in time to see Cayla fly backward into the gearshift with a yelp. Ronin cursed and grabbed for Cayla. The car lurched. Ronin refocused on the wheel. The tires locked up and Cayla was thrown to the side. The car went into a tailspin, then died in the center of the road.

  Ronin worked on getting the car started again. Hope sat up, not showing any regard to Cayla. “Don’t ever grab me like that.”

  Cayla climbed back into the passenger seat, rubbing her back. The car started and was on its way once more. Cayla opened her mouth, but Ronin cut her off. Ronin shot Hope a scowl. “You are a rude woman. She was trying to help.”

  Hope narrowed her eyes. “Stop the car and let me out. I’d prefer to walk.”

  “I don’t doubt you would.”

  Ronin slammed the brakes. Hope squawked as she and Cayla both braced themselves, throwing their arms out in front of their bodies. Hope to keep from being thrust into Ronin’s seat, Cayla to keep from hitting the dashboard.

  Ronin shoved open the driver’s side door, leapt out and dragged open one of the rear doors. He seized Hope by the arm, hauled her out, then tossed her back against the car.

  Cayla jumped out with a scream, “Ronin, don’t,” as she ran around the car. “Leave her alone.”

  Hope smacked his arm away and shoved her face in Ronin’s. “What are you gonna do tough guy? You don’t have the balls to do shit.”

  Ronin pressed forward, trying to intimidate her into backing down. “You are an insolent child. You don’t know how to respect anyone and you sure as hell don’t know how to be thankful you have someone who wants to help you.”

  The fact that Ronin thought he should talk to her like a five-year old child, further pissed Hope off. “You don’t know anything about me. Who are you to judge me?” Hope bashed her palms against his chest, causing Ronin to stumble back.

  Cayla took the chance to get in-between them, then put a hand against each of their chests to prevent them from moving. “What is it with you two? We’re not safe out here exposed like this. We need to keep moving.” Hope whacked Cayla’s hand away. She crossed her arms and scowled at Ronin.

  “I will not tolerate disrespect,” Ronin informed Cayla. That explained everything as far as he was concerned.

  Cayla took a deep breath and slowly released it. She looked at Hope. “Can you please wait in the car?”

  The muscle in Hope’s jaw worked a few times while she struggled to suppress her rage. She finally relented. When she turned to Cayla, she softened, gave Cayla a nod, then turned and climbed into the car. With a final point to slam the door shut, the windows rattled, and the door threatened to fall off.

  Ronin cocked his head around Cayla to regard the dark-haired woman who sat in the car. He shook his head and scratched the side of his neck.

  Cayla asked, “A moment, please?” She checked their surroundings, then the car, and finally wandered to the other side of the road. It wasn’t like cars would be passing through the area anytime soon.

  Hope was a live beacon out here. As far as anyone was concerned, she was the top prize. Far too many wanted the girl’s head on a stick. Cayla took no chances.

  Ronin also checked to make sure there were no lurkers in the area, hiding behind any of the trees, then followed Cayla. Hunters never gave any warning when they attacked. If it were Darrok’s Amaranthine Guards, there would be no getting away from an ambush. When Ronin worked as a Hunter, he was the best at capturing his prey. Silence was the best weapon.

  Ronin stretched his head to the right, then to the left, trying to ease the anger, but it didn’t help. By the time they stopped on the other side, he said, “If you’re going to go off on me, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I wouldn’t bother.” Cayla’s nostrils flared. “But maybe you should look at the woman you’re working so hard to hate. She isn’t mean because she’s mean. That’s all she knows. It’s how she protects herself.”

  Ronin stared at Cayla for the longest time. He thought Cayla was insane, and it was time to commit her. Too many years they’d known each other, she read him like a book.

  “That gives her no right to be disrespectful to you. She physically hurt you just now. It could’ve been worse. What, are we to treat her with kid gloves just because she can have a baby?”

  Cayla said, “See past the hood she uses to cover her face. See past the dirt and the grime she uses to conceal herself. You’ll see true beauty. Like nothing you’ve ever seen before. You will see something extraordinary. A woman who holds our destiny in her hands. Not just because she can have a baby. There is something else, Ronin. I don’t know what, but I can feel it. I know you can, too.”

  “You don’t know if Hope can have another baby. Hell, for all we know, that was a fluke. Maybe the child destroyed her ability to have another. Maybe it wouldn’t have survived long. There is no way in hell I’d bend over backward to please that woman. Ever.”

  Cayla studied Hope. Ronin did as well. Hope faced forward in the darkened interior of the station wagon, lost in her thoughts and alone in another world, another existence. Sensing that she was being watched, she tugged the hood farther over her face once more, which cast an eerie shadow around her face.

  Hope stared down at her hands. Most likely playing with the tips of her fingers as she did once in a rare while. Staring at her fingers, touching the tips, rubbing them together, as though remembering the feeling of something important to her, or trying to remember. Perhaps the feel of her lost infant’s hand in her own, the small fingers. The sorrow—which could be misconstrued as anger—that gripped her face in those moments, gave Cayla that impression, and it never failed to break her heart.

  “I never said you had to,” Cayla’s temper eased from watching Hope. “I’m only asking that you give her a chance. I can’t explain what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. She needs us right now more than ever. Whatever happened to her broke her, it weakened her. She didn’t mean to hurt me. She was lost in the nightmare of the past.” Cayla paused. “Why are you being so touchy anyway? Her, I can understand. You? Ever since you met her, you’ve been different.”

  With the way Hope sat in the car, the dark interior seemed darker. Ronin contemplated the car for a long time. Hope sensed Ronin’s intense gaze and shifted to face the other way.

  “Not sure,” Ronin said. “Like you said. Something deep inside rubs me the wrong way. I do believe something resides inside of her. I’m just not sure we want to know what it is. Being kidnapped doesn’t help.”

  “I don’t suppose it does. Stop giving her a hard time. She’ll never ease up if you keep treating her that way. One of you has to give.”

  Ronin shook his head, as he headed back to the car, and muttered under his breath, “Being right gets old you know.”

  TEN

  THE MAN WATCHED HOPE while she stood near the back of the room and made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t figure out if Greg was studying her because he wanted her, or because he was one of them. Them being someone always out to throw her to the wolves, for profit or something far more inviting. The promise of immortality they all sought. One that never, ever came.

  Hope bitched Greg out, but the peeping tom act continued. Oh, he got a little sneakier at it, but the focus remained the entire time they were there. Another man’s attention on her made her far more uncomfortable than Greg’s.

  Ronin had kept a close eye on her since their last argument. The suspicious scrutiny never wavered. No doubt wondering why she was always on edge. He still didn’t get it. Hope could hear him now, get over it already.

  Hope eyed the slight black stubble spread over Ronin’s jawline, flecked with bits of silver here and there. She took in the tight line of his lips, the muscle that throbbed in his neck, feel
ing her gaze on him. Ronin expected her to calm down, yet here he stood, always on edge. Ronin turned and met her stare, which is how they remained for a while.

  Cayla stopped talking which dragged Ronin’s attention back to his business, leaving Hope alone. “We need those documents, Greg. We need to get out of here. Not tomorrow. Not later today. Now,” he threatened.

  The man half-shrugged. “Relax, Ronin. I’ll git ‘em ready right now. Why don’t y’all go upstairs and get a bite o’ food? Not much, but welcome to it.” Greg gave Hope a friendly smile. She turned away and raised a single blind with her finger to peek past the iron bars.

  “You hungry, Hope?” Cayla asked.

  Hope looked at Ronin, then Cayla. “I guess.”

  Cayla disapproved. She gave Hope her best stern mom face. “You haven’t eaten in how long?”

  Hope gave her a casual shrug. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

  Ronin said, “Why don’t you two head upstairs and get some. I’ll keep an eye out.”

  Hope narrowed her eyes. “I’m supposed to believe—”

  Cayla cut in before Hope could start another fight. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ronin. She was saying thank you.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Cayla motioned toward the doorway in the back of the small run down shop. A small darkened staircase awaited. “Let’s get some food.” Cayla raised her chin, and gave Hope her best, I-am-your-mother-and-you-will-do-what-I-say look.

  Hope obeyed . . . after she pursed her lips. She stalked toward the back, showing her annoyance with each deliberate step, side-stepping around random boxes and crates along the floor, kicking one of the smaller ones. Hope frowned at Ronin when she passed him.

  Cayla chuckled and gave Ronin a sympathetic look. “I will bring you some.”

  He nodded. “Appreciate it.”

  Hope had disappeared by the time Cayla reached the end of the stairs. Cayla found her in a small upper room above the shop. A cot lay at one end, a small table and chair at the other.

  Opposite the door a small manufactured oven sat on a counter below a window made of iron bars and wood like the rest of the shop. There was a single candle glowing beneath a pyramid frame of metal with a flat top, which made up the oven. A glass pot rested at the top of the entire thing, holding some semblance of soup. Hope was bent over the liquid, sniffing it with disgust.

  “Why are you acting like this?” Cayla asked.

  Hope jerked up and faced Cayla. Cayla flinched. “Why am I acting like this? You tell me. I told you I didn’t want to do this. Yet you think you can tell me what to do? Or him?”

  Cayla took a calming breath. “I’m getting a little sick of your act. I am trying to help.”

  Hope grabbed a nearby spoon from the counter and rubbed it on her shirt a few times. She eyed it before dunking it in the soup. When she tasted the broth, she gagged. She threw the spoon off to the side. Cayla had her hands on her hips.

  “You’re not my mothe—”

  Warning bells sounded in Hope’s mind and she clamped her mouth shut. A thud from downstairs. Feet rushed around below them. Cayla hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Hope’s heart raced, her skin prickled, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered, keeping her attention glued to the door.

  Cayla paled. “Hear what?” she whispered.

  “Thud from below.” Hope’s arm slowly moved behind her. She wrapped her fingers around the handle to her blade. With her other hand, she motioned Cayla away from the door. Hope brought the knife out, preparing for what came.

  Men burst through the doorway before Cayla reacted. A couple men hurried through the dark shadows, wearing all black with masks shrouding their faces. One of the men rushed Cayla. He knocked her out with the butt of his gun.

  The other, holding an old rifle in his hand, pointed it at Hope. “Drop your weapon.”

  “As if I’d do that?” Hope asked as if they were in a casual conversation.

  The man glanced at his buddy as if to say, is she serious? Both of their bodies took over the small room so they expected her to cower. Seeing that she wasn’t, caused them to pause.

  The man holding the rifle laughed. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I prefer the hard way.” He smiled, but Hope wished he hadn’t. He revealed disgusting teeth that hadn’t seen a brush in years.

  Hope had lost the ability to fear death a long time ago. She wasn’t insane though. What she feared was what men were capable of, but she couldn’t use other methods to stop them. She wasn’t sure she could do anything anymore. If she tried, she could very well hurt herself and Cayla, like a bomb without direction.

  The words he spoke caused a shiver to pass through her. Her hand shook and the rifle man caught the action. Hope flexed her fingers and tightened her grip.

  Through clenched teeth, Hope said, “You’ll lose a couple fingers, I promise. Or something far more valuable.” She shot a glance at his pants. He received the point.

  The other man between Hope and rifle boy, charged forward. Both men rounded her, preparing to attack. When one got close, she swung her knife. Fabric ripping apart rewarded her efforts. The man she struck screamed, blood splashed the floor. The injured man snatched his hurt arm back as the other man closed in.

  The second man tried to grab her and Hope spun around and landed her foot with perfect aim into his groin. The man dropped to his knees. Hope plunged her knee into his chin. His head snapped back with a crunch.

  A new voice shouted above the ruckus, “Enough.” Hope spun toward the sound in time to see a shadow fall over her.

  Pain attacked every nerve-ending Hope possessed. Before waking, that was all she registered. Pain in her arms chained behind and against the hard chair she was in; pain in her legs chained to the chair. Pain in her face, throbbing with intention; in her head, pulsing with a building migraine. A spot of pain, worse than the rest, lay in the center of the back of her neck.

  Then came a voice, unfamiliar to her. “Oh she’s the one, Drew, believe me. Look at your arm and tell me she’s not. The wire said to be prepared for a fight. She would be faster than we could imagine. Don’t underestimate her small size. We’ll keep moving Hope, until he enters the area. Once he does, we’ll meet up with him. He can square us up.”

  Trying to raise her head caused more pain to lightning strike through. When she sucked in a sharp breath, the sound drew the focus of the men. Hope tried to peel her lids open, but they were determined to remain glued shut. One of the men thought he’d help her out and grab her by the hair to yank her head backward, producing a grunt from Hope.

  “And a good fucking morning to you, sunshine,” Drew spat into her face, rank breath settling over her like the plague. Not a good smell to wake up to. On his arm was the bandage that covered the injury she gave him earlier.

  There was no way of knowing how long they had her tied to the chair. It had to be hours, at least. Long enough for her arms to become dead weight and her body to fall asleep. Her stomach rumbled its own complaints.

  Electricity crackled in the air, the scent of charred skin hung on the nonexistent wind. They used electric cuffs. Lovely.

  E-cuffs, or electrical cuffs, were a new item that Darrok invented, which took care of the little problem of Amaranthines being stronger and more advanced than most humans. Regular metal cuffs didn’t hold up against Amaranthines for long.

  Yet the new e-cuffs did. When connected, the e-cuffs generated electricity by gathering power from the Earth’s energy in the atmosphere. The e-cuffs looked like good old-fashioned handcuffs, but possessed a slight blue glow once alive. When fighting against the restraints, they burned the skin of the person they were on.

  Hope’s captor who wouldn’t leave her side had dirty blonde hair, brown from filth. Clothes were old issue military, but haggard and torn from years of not being changed. His blue eyes regarded her with a mixture of disdain and amusement. A long scar over the eye spoke of a k
nife fight gone wrong.

  “Get a breath mint,” she said.

  The man released her hair and slammed his large fist into the side of Hope’s face. She cried out. Blood and spittle flew to the side.

  “I won’t put up with shit. From nobody dear, Hope,” scar-face said, his words filled with venom. “I’m not afraid to beat the shit out of you. Cooperate, or not. Doesn’t bother me, you being a woman and all. It’s rather enjoyable to put you stupid little smug whores in line.”

  Hope cringed. Her tongue slid along the corner of her mouth, cleaning the blood from her lips. She spat it out toward the side, ridding herself of the iron tasting filth, attempting to hit his shoe with it. Drew stepped back before the blood got anywhere near his foot.

  “I believe I’m smart enough to have figured out that much, but I appreciate the help,” she said.

  Scar-face grunted a laugh. He hammered her in the stomach. The air escaped Hope’s lungs. She coughed and gagged as she fought back the bile that rose. Another man stepped forward and shoved him away. “Are you crazy, Drew?”

  Drew spun and bashed a fist into her savior’s chin. The man flew back off his feet, thudding to the ground.

  “Don’t ever touch me, you prick. I do as I wish.” Drew paused to look at Hope, tied to the chair. His gaze darkened and his face contorted. “Anything,” he added with clear sexual intent.

  Hope turned her head away, she swallowed the fear. The pain in her stomach wasn’t from any broken ribs. He’d hit her too low for that, but it sure as hell felt as though a freight train had struck her. His arms and fists were far too large. Mister Drew had to be hopped up on something.

  She spat more blood and glared up at him. If he expected her to show her fear, he was dead wrong, which he seemed to expect.

  Sporting a large smile, Drew leaned down to her. “You can try and hide your fear all you want, sweetness. I can smell it. Smells delicious.” He dragged his tongue up her cheek.

  Hope muttered, “ugh,” and tried to pull away.

  “You’re good at hiding it,” he told when he straightened back up. “I’ll give you that much. Give me another bitchy remark like the last one, I’ll do summin ‘bout it. Summin that don’t involve ya being tied to a chair.”