Soul of a Predator Page 7

  Fingering the copy of the photo image that Shaque had sent to her via the viscomm, Elyse stared out the huge floor to ceiling window of Sonja and Red's home.

  Daamen was a trading planet, with the women running the businesses while the men traded. They were a canny race, with a love of life and a keen business sense.

  The settlements reflected the race. The white stone homes were stately and graceful, with elegant pillars supporting the wide verandas, lush gardens, and peaceful, wide streets. Family orientated. The men might be giants with a love of brawling, ale and wenches, but the married men were devoted to their wives and family. The single men wenched until their hearts were captured by that one special lass.

  The planet was lush, with rivers, oceans and forests. A paradise. But not one on which she could ever feel at home.

  The stars sparkled in the night sky, and she sighed silently. There was a familiar trickle in her nostril, and she absently wiped the drop of blood away with a small rag and shoved it back into her pocket.

  The room reflected in the window, and she saw the simple yet comfortable furnishings. The chairs were made for the men to sit in with no qualms about their weight. The room was homely, made for laughter, cuddling, couples and families.

  "So,” Sonja said from behind her as she shut the door to the long corridor. “What's going on?"

  Turning away from the window, Elyse took the folded photo image from her pocket and held it out to her.

  Moving forward, Sonja took it silently and studied it before looking at her in puzzlement. “Who took this?"

  Elyse shook her head.

  "Who gave it to you?"

  "Some child in the Outlaw Sector.” Elyse told her the basic story, and then added, “The blonde girl is Shaque's sister."

  "Oh?” Sonja rubbed her chin. “But why are you standing with her?"

  "And isn't that the question of the day."

  * * * *

  The children shivered, hiding in the shadows. The oldest girl scurried out undercover of the dark, scrounging in the bins for food, while the three younger children huddled together for warmth in the back alley.

  She knew they'd have to move on soon. To stay here would mean certain capture. For weeks they'd managed to evade the ones who looked for them, sent by The Man. But how much longer could they hide and still manage to eat?

  Lifting the lid of the nearest bin, she peered in and almost immediately spotted the half rotten fruit sitting near the top. Quickly she grabbed it, slipping it into the pocket of her dirty dress.

  Each bin she searched, she managed to find a scrap of food, be it partly eaten, partly raw, or even spoiled. It didn't matter. It would keep the hunger at bay, keep the younger ones alive.

  But for what? The bitter voice deep inside her head jeered. He won't come. The Knifer won't come.

  Resolutely pushing the thought away, she hurried back to the others. She couldn't think those thoughts, couldn't let the hopelessness crash over her. She had to keep on for the others. Keep on like Celia had told her to do. Keep hoping, wishing, believing...

  Not that it had done Celia any good.

  No! No, don't think that! Celia did what she could for us before she died. I just have to keep on looking after the others until he comes. He will come. He will.

  Over and over she thought the line. He will come. He will. He will come. He will. He will come. He will.

  Quietly she slipped through the broken fence and into the little hidey hole she'd found a week ago. Once inside, though, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

  The other children were gone, and in their place stood two men, both mean-eyed, both grinning.

  "Hello, little girl,” one said. “The Man wants you."

  She turned to run, only to crash into another man behind her. She kicked, fought, scratched, but too many hands held her suddenly and pushed her to the ground. A sharp sting in her thigh, and then her vision started to blur. Her screams faded to whimpers, and then all went black.

  Three

  Sitting in her home office, Sabra took the photo image from Shaque and slid it onto the tray of the scanner. It slid back into the computer and she touched the icons on the screen.

  "How old would your sister be now?” she asked quietly.

  "Twenty six.” Shaque took a deep breath, allowing a bit of emotion to show for the first time. “She'd be twenty six."

  Sympathy shone in Sabra's eyes but her voice remained steady. “You want me to age the picture so hopefully you'll recognize the brown-haired girl."

  "And if I don't it may give Elyse's memory a little jog,” he replied tightly. “If she knows I've got a picture ID of the grown-up version of this girl, then it may be enough to make her talk."

  "And if she still refuses?"

  Shaque looked at her. “Then Elyse is going to disappear for a while."

  Picking up a peach, Sabra absentmindedly polished it on her shirt front. “And how do you intend to grab her and spirit her away?"

  Shaque looked at her.

  "Aye, you're right, I don't want to know.” Sabra took a bite of the peach. “And how are you going to make her talk?"

  Shaque continued to just look at her.

  "Aye, you're right, I probably don't want to know that, either."

  Silence filled the room as Sabra chewed and waited, her gaze sharp and thoughtful.

  Shaque's mind was made up. Once he had the aged version of the photo image, then he was going to see Elyse. If she still refused to tell him who the woman was, then he had every intention of drugging her and taking her away to an isolated place. A place no one would hear her scream for help.

  Idly he ran his finger over the blade of the dagger he held, testing it for sharpness. He knew a lot of ways to make outlaws and space pirates talk. Not nice ways, but then no one had ever accused him of being nice.

  Sabra looked from his face to the dagger and back, but all she said was, “The aging is starting."

  Moving behind her, he watched the screen. The photo image was on screen, enlarged and in full detail. A scanner bar slowly ran over the image from top to bottom, over and over, aging the girls pictured year by year.

  After several minutes, a chill went through him. A chill because there stood his sister, an older version, pretty but still solemn. A younger version of their dead mother.

  A chill because beside her stood Elyse. Elyse with blue eyes, not brown, but Elyse nonetheless.

  The aged picture slid out of the slot next to the screen, and he grabbed it, staring at the two girls. Staring at Elyse.

  "That bitch!” he snarled. “If she doesn't talk, she's dead!"

  "Oh shit!” Sabra leaped up from her chair. “Shaque!"

  It was too late.

  Shaque heard her call out from behind him, heard Cam pounding through from the back of the house in answer to the alarm in his cherished wife's voice. Shaque slammed the door behind him and sped down the path, not bothering to open the gate. Leaping over it, he tore down the street.

  Behind him he heard Sabra swearing, then Cam calling out to him.

  But the fury pounding through him, the knowledge that Elyse knew his sister and yet had lied to him so blatantly, made his blood boil. She'd known. She'd stood beside his sister after she was taken. She knew where his sister was!

  He was going to kill her if she didn't tell him.

  Nearing the home of Sonja and Red, he spotted several big traders standing on the front porch and knew they waited for him. But there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone stand between him and the only chance he had of finding his sister.

  But even as he approached the gate and the traders who started towards him, he knew. He just knew.

  Elyse wouldn't be cowering behind closed doors, allowing others to protect her. She'd be waiting for him.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind and he swerved away, the door was thrown open and Sonja appeared, her voice anxious. “She's gone! She—oh hell!"

  The last was exclaim
ed in horror when she saw him.

  And Shaque knew where Elyse was waiting.

  The traders were up and over the gate behind him, their long legs eating up the distance. But Shaque was fast, lithe, and his fury lent him strength. He ran like he'd never run before, with a single-minded purpose.

  Approaching the docking bay, he saw several tall figures approaching from the side at a fast run. Reeka warriors, and he knew they'd mean business. If the traders or warriors got to him, he wouldn't have a hope in hell of getting to Elyse.

  But he had the advantage of being closer to the docking bay. Shooting through the open gates, he heard Reya yelling his name, Dana swearing. There came the whine of a laser firing up, but he ignored it.

  Her ship was in view, the ramp down. He didn't wonder if she'd wiped his body pattern from the security system. He knew she hadn't. He knew Elyse waited for him. Waited for the showdown.

  Well, by God, she was going to get a showdown. This time she'd give him answers. This time there'd be no walking away for either of them.

  The time of reckoning was at hand.

  Laser fire sizzled around his boots as he tore up the ramp. The cargo floor echoed with his boots, and then the ringing of the metal stairs as he bounded up them. Behind him he could hear cursing, but no one following. The force field held everyone out.

  Elyse wouldn't want anyone interfering in their showdown.

  Bursting out into the corridor, he looked around furiously. The cabins were dark on either side of the lit corridor, and lifting his head, he looked from one side to the other.

  "Elyse!” Her name was a roar that blasted down the corridor.

  A low growl sounded from the cabin on the right.

  "Elyse!” He started forward, his hand hovering above the laser holstered at his thigh.

  Low and threatening, the growl sounded again.

  Rage was pushed back as his natural caution took over. Something wasn't right. Drawing the laser, Shaque held it out in front of him as he approached the cabin from which the growl sounded.

  Was she here? What could possibly be growling in the cabin? Did she have a vicious hound aboard? A hound even now watching him?

  Staying back from the doorway, he swung around fully to face the doorway, the laser aimed directly inside the darkness. For a brief instant he glimpsed twin red glows, and then they winked out.

  "Come in, hunter.” Elyse's voice was low, husky. Deeper than normal.

  In one quick move he lunged inside, lifting his hand to snap on the light. A sweeping glance of the room showed nothing in the room apart from the woman sitting back in the armchair directly opposite the door.

  Leaning back in the chair, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee, her elbows resting on the armrest and her hands cupping a glass which she held in front of her, Elyse looked relaxed. Cool. Collected. Waiting for him.

  But her eyes were alert, missing nothing, skimming from the laser in his hand to his face. Placing the glass down on the little table beside the armchair, she pushed easily to her feet. “Got a problem, hunter?"

  Heart pounding, blood thrumming in his ears, temper boiling, he moved forward hard and fast and when he came within arms reach of her, he twisted his hands into the lapels of her jacket and propelled her backwards until she slammed back up against the wall.

  She went easily, matching him step for step, not fighting. Her gaze was calm, cool, collected, which fired his temper even more.

  Never one to lose control normally, Shaque was riding the edge. He felt it and didn't care. This time, this time...

  "This time you'll tell me!” he roared.

  She didn't flinch.

  Shoving his face so close to hers he could see his own reflection in her brown eyes, he snarled from between clenched teeth. “You bloody lied to me. It was you in that photo image! You were the brown-haired girl!"

  "Yes."

  "You lied to me!"

  Thick black eyelashes dipped as she lowered her gaze to do a leisurely study from his jaw to the top of his head, before that cool gaze met his again. “I don't remember your sister."

  "No more bloody lies!” Rage pumped through him and he twisted his hand in her jacket lapels harder, lifting her slightly so that she was upright against the wall. Hard against the wall.

  "It's the truth."

  He stepped forward, using his body to press her against the wall so that he could feel every breath she took, see every flicker of expression that crossed her face. “Lie to me once more, Elyse, and I'll finish this between us right now. Permanently."

  And he meant it.

  Elyse looked at him calmly. “The girl has blue eyes. How do you know it isn't my sister?"

  "I know. I know, Elyse, because it's you. There's no mistake.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Are you telling me it's not you?"

  "No. It's me."

  "So why did you lie to me?"

  "Because I don't remember that photo image being taken."

  "You denied knowing the brown-haired girl, but you knew it was you. Care to explain that, Elyse?"

  Locking their gazes with ruthless intensity, he watched for any flicker of her eyes or other sign of deception.

  "I don't remember the photo image, I don't remember your sister. I wasn't going to admit anything until I thought things through."

  "Thought things through?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  One slim brow arched. “Look how you're behaving now and tell me I didn't have just cause to be cautious."

  The vein in his temple throbbed. “You should have told me it was you."

  "And have you determined to tear me apart for an answer I didn't have?"

  "I doubt that would have scared you.” And that on its own was enraging.

  "I spoke to Sonja. She doesn't remember your sister either."

  "Sonja would lie to protect you."

  "Shaque.” Her gaze held his just as intently. “I'm telling you the truth now. I don't know anything about that photo image. I don't know your sister."

  "So how do you explain your presence beside her?"

  "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

  Her answer startled him. “What?"

  "I'm going to find out.” She looked at him steadily.

  Suspicion prickled through his fury. “Why? What do you know that you're not telling me?"

  "I don't know anything, that's why."

  His eyes narrowed. “Why is this something you want to pursue? Why now?"

  "I have my reasons and it's not your business."

  "It damned well is my business.” His knuckles went white as he gripped her jacket tighter. “I want to find my sister, and you're the only link."

  "I'm a poor link when I don't remember her."

  "So why bother looking?"

  This time it was a muscle that jumped in her small jaw.

  "What are you looking for?” he snarled.

  Her hands locked around his wrists and tugged in a silent command to release her.

  "I don't bloody think so, Elyse. You're not going anywhere."

  In a movement so quick he couldn't block it in time, she pushed her arms up between his and flung them out to the sides, breaking his hold on her lapels. Locking her hands in his own jacket lapels she swung around, using her weight to pull him with her, and then she dropped them both onto the floor.

  She would have landed on top of Shaque, except her hands slammed onto the floor each side of his head, and her legs and body remained stiff as she held herself above his body with the simple strength of her muscles. Braced on her hands and toes, her body barely brushed his from knee to chest.

  He'd expected her to fight, to be primed for a battle. He wasn't expecting her to simply balance above him.

  But he felt the danger coming off her in waves, and when she closed her eyes and held very still, he didn't fight back or try to take control, which would be his normal instinct.

  Something was happening, and he needed—was determined, in fact—t
o find out what it was. And yes, he was curious. It knifed through his rage, clearing his head of some of the clouding emotion.

  Elyse wasn't fighting him, he thought suddenly. She seemed to be ... fighting herself? He could see the struggle on her face, in the way she arched her neck, throwing her head back, clenching her teeth.

  A shudder went through her, and she turned her head to the side. “Get out, Shaque. Just get out.” She started to push upright.

  There was no way in hell Shaque was going to let her go. In a lightning move he surged up onto his knees, grabbing her arms at the same time and yanking hard so that she crashed down onto her knees before him.

  Staying upright on her knees, she went perfectly still, but still kept her head turned away.

  "You're going nowhere until you give me answers, Elyse,” he grated harshly. “Even if I have to handcuff you to me."

  "You don't know what you're dealing with, hunter."

  "What are you looking for, Elyse? That is my sister you were with. I have a right to know.” He shook her. “Look at me, damn you! Tell me!"

  She swung around to face him, and he found himself looking into the burning red of her eyes.

  "I need to find out who I am.” The words came low, almost in a growl that had the hairs prickling along his arms.

  Any man in his right senses would have stumbled back in horror, but not Shaque. He knew Elyse, he'd fought her when the mutant in her had been at the fore. Every time he'd met her since her release from prison, he'd sensed the danger still simmering inside her, the deadliness. He knew the mutant hadn't been taken from her completely. It had merely been subdued.

  He didn't fear her.

  "You said you're going to find the link between you and my sister. Why?” He grated out.

  "She's the only link to a time I dimly remember."

  "You're not making sense."

  She ducked her head slightly, peering up at him, red glittering through the thick lashes. “Does it matter?"

  "Yes, it bloody well does. I'm not leaving until you tell me everything.” He pushed his face closer to hers. “Mutant or not, you're stuck with me."

  * * * *

  Fury beat through her, and the metallic taste of blood was on her tongue. But his eyes, those pale, winter blue eyes, bored into her. Bored through the red haze lightly covering her conscious, the cold gaze breaking through the veil.