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  Striker suddenly stopped, making her crash into his back. “They’re in. We won’t make it to the end of the tunnel.” Large hands clasped her shoulders. “We need to fight. Do you know how to use a gun?”

  “Of course.” She tried to ignore her roiling stomach. She could do this. She didn’t have a choice.

  “Take this.” He pressed a gun into her hands. It wasn’t one of the laser guns Enforcement used, but one that fired bullets. They weren’t uncommon, but she’d never used one before. She was grateful for the darkness, as it meant Striker couldn’t see her tremble as she took it.

  “All I do is pull the trigger, right?”

  He swore. “You said you knew how to use a gun.”

  “A laser gun.”

  He cursed again. “Point and shoot. The trigger is in the same place as a laser gun, but it isn’t coded to a print, and there’s no projection to help you aim for your target. The only real difference is there is more recoil with this gun. Be ready for that. Only shoot if they get past me. I don’t want you hitting me in the back.”

  She nodded, even though it was too dark for him to see her. She could do this. Point and shoot. Easy. Just don’t think about the target being people.

  “I can’t see where I’m shooting.” But she could hear. The running feet were getting closer.

  “Just face the way I point you and fire when I shout. Or, if someone who isn’t me comes at you, feel free to pull the trigger, then, too. You’ll know it isn’t me because Enforcement wear lights on their vests. But remember, if you hit me, the deal is off.”

  How could he joke? “You’re huge and take up all the space. I can’t fire around you.” Oh God, if he dies, what will I do?

  “If this goes as planned, you won’t need to fire at all.”

  “You have a plan?” It was impossible to hide her disbelief.

  He chuckled as she felt fingers trail over her cheek, startling her with the gentle offer of reassurance. “Yeah, I have a plan. Don’t worry, bébé, I’ve lived through worse than this.”

  The pounding steps got closer. Friday’s eyes shot in the direction of the noise even though all she could see was endless black.

  “We’re gonna wait until they get closer,” he whispered against her ear, the feeling oddly intimate. “Then we’ll fire at their supply packs and hopefully blow them and the tunnel around them.”

  “Do they carry explosives?” she whispered back.

  “Enough to do some damage. Hopefully enough to bring this baby down on top of them. Remember, they can only come at us one at a time. The tunnel isn’t wide enough for more.” He stilled. Listening. “It’s time. Crouch down. Point the gun. Fire when I tell you.”

  She took a deep, shaky breath and did as she was told. “What are you going to do?”

  “Scare the crap out of them.” She could have sworn he was smiling as he spoke. “Off you go,” he added, which didn’t make any sense.

  “Go where?”

  “Not you. You stay.”

  Who then? She didn’t get a chance to ask because that’s when the screaming started.

  Chapter Four

  Friday curled herself into the smallest ball she could manage, while still aiming her gun in the direction Striker had pointed her. Flashes of light illuminated shadows around her as laser fire rang out. Dirt fell. Dust billowed. Through the thick cloud, in the hazy flashes of light, she could make out Striker’s back as he crouched a few feet in front of her.

  “Snake! Snake!” someone shouted. “It bit me. Fuck. It bit me!” A gut-churning wail went up, echoing off the walls as it traveled down the tunnel.

  She stilled as the cry sank in. There were snakes in the tunnel. Slithering, venomous, snakes. In the darkness. With her. Her breathing turned into shallow panting as she fought the very real urge to run screaming. Still. She had to stay still. She had to protect the man who stood between her and Enforcement, as hysteria reigned.

  “I’m down, I’m down. It bit my neck!”

  “Where is the fucker?”

  Another bone-chilling scream.

  “What the hell kind of snake is that?”

  “Where did it go? Where is it? Can anyone see it? I can’t see it.”

  A panicked roar. “It got me!”

  “Shoot it!”

  “I can’t see it.”

  “Where the hell is it?”

  Fire blasted out, random and unfocused, as Enforcement agents succumbed to panic. It was agony-filled chaos. Friday concentrated on breathing evenly in an attempt to steady her hands. Focus. She had to focus. Don’t think about the snakes. Don’t think about the snakes…

  “Stop shooting!” The order came from farther down the tunnel. It was a dark bark of absolute authority that made Friday shudder. “Get the injured out of here. Pass them back. The rest of you move forward.”

  “There it is! It’s huge. Run! Run! It’s above us.” Another shriek filled with agony.

  More flashes of blue light. More laser blasts. Friday bit back a cough as dust filled the tunnel and clogged her throat. In the dim glow from the lights attached to the Enforcement uniforms, she watched Striker’s silhouette as he stood. There was a whistle. It might have come from him. The shadow of a man stumbled into sight, his bulk hazy through the dust-filled air. He stumbled. Fell. Sobbing. Wailing. Clutching his neck. Another scream echoed along the tunnel. Someone shouted orders. Shots went off, fired aimlessly. And through it all, her protector stood like a statue.

  The fallen man writhed on the ground before them. Why didn’t Striker fire his weapon? Why was he just standing there? He whistled again. The light in the tunnel grew brighter as more men closed in on them. Striker’s silhouette shuddered before he stilled. His arms lowered, and his hand reached for his gun. He rose slightly on the balls of his feet, took aim, and fired. He hit the utility belt on the waist of a dead Enforcement agent. The blast blinded Friday and sent her rocking onto her backside.

  The ceiling above the rest of the Enforcement agents began to crumble. They fired blindly, scrambling over each other to get out from under the falling earth. Friday closed her eyes against the biting dust. She wished she could close her ears against the panic and screams of pain as erratic laser blasts echoed through the tunnel.

  Striker fired again, hitting a second officer. Another blast. This time it triggered the belt of the man behind as well. Two blasts in quick succession. Friday’s ears were ringing. She shook her head. Dizziness, disorientation—she wanted to double over and retch. A hand grabbed her arm. The air was thick. Unbreathable. A voice at her ear. Distant. Faint, as though she listened through water. “Cover your mouth. Run.”

  Striker pried the gun from her grip and grabbed her hand. She pulled the neck of her jumpsuit over her mouth. They rushed forward into blackness as the tunnel fell behind them, crushing Enforcement agents and snakes alike. Dirt and stones rained down. The earth creaked and moved, groaning in protest, pressing in on them.

  She stumbled. Striker pulled her up. She ran blindly, her lungs burning, her legs rubber, her heart racing. All the while, the tunnel crumbled behind her. The roar of falling earth was an agonized wail of protest. The earth was angry at having been invaded. It wanted to swallow them whole as punishment for their trespass.

  Striker suddenly yanked her to the left. She stumbled, fell against something wooden, and tripped over a step. A door. They’d gone through a door.

  “Up. Fast. Don’t quit now.”

  He dragged her behind him, moving fast and pulling her along. She fell too many times to count, too high on adrenaline and fear to feel pain.

  “Nearly there.” Striker’s voice was an echo in her damaged ears. “There!”

  He pushed forward, and suddenly artificial light enveloped them. Friday fell to her knees, panting, desperately sucking in air that was stale and thick but blessedly free from dirt and dust.

  Striker threaded his hands under her arms and yanked her up. “Not yet. We need to get out of this building. The tunnel
could collapse beneath us.”

  They raced up more stairs and out into an abandoned store. Striker scanned the street beyond the windows while Friday bent double and gasped for air.

  “Okay, we’re good. Come on.” He motioned for her to follow. Unlike her, he wasn’t out of breath.

  They sneaked out into the street, hugging the walls of the buildings, keeping to the shadows. Striker took her hand again to ensure she kept pace with him. His eye restlessly scanned the area as he led her across the road. They were in a suburb full of cheap prefab houses with tiny rooms and even smaller windows. Boxes for storing the poor, out of sight of the rich, where they couldn’t offend.

  “In here.” He elbowed the door to a darkened house. There was a crack and the panel gave way.

  He shoved her inside and quietly shut the broken door behind them. As he spied out of the window to see if anyone was following, Friday surveyed their surroundings. They were in the main room. The kitchen area was in the corner. The furnishings were sparse, cheap but neat. Someone had tried to care for their home, and it had been invaded. Guilt assailed her.

  Striker turned away from the window. “We’re good here for now.”

  He strode to the kitchen area, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles of water. He thrust one at her. “Drink. But spit out the first few mouthfuls. We ate a lot of dirt.”

  She followed him to the sink and did as he ordered. Her first swallow of ice-cold water was a balm to her abused throat. Without another word, Striker fetched two more bottles and passed one to her. She sank down the wall to sit on the cool stone floor. Her mind was blank, and every inch of her body began to ache. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. It felt like her eyeballs had been rolled in sand. The grit had worked its way under her comlens and rubbed relentlessly against her eyeball. She made a mental note to take the damn thing out, first chance she got. The lens was useless to her anyway, now that she was disconnected from the grid.

  “You did good.”

  She snorted. It wasn’t ladylike. She didn’t care. “I did nothing.”

  “Which is exactly what I told you to do. Hence the good.”

  She opened her eyes to find Striker crouched in front of her. “You could have told me there were snakes in the tunnel.”

  He shrugged, but that wicked smile was back. “The only predator you need to worry about is me.”

  “How did Enforcement get past the staircase? You said it was rigged to blow.”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll make a call and ask a few questions.”

  That made her weary body move. Her hand shot out and her fingers curled around his wrist.

  “You can’t call anyone. The public communications network and all the messaging systems are being monitored. They’ll be on us within seconds.”

  “You have a lot to learn. I keep telling you, I know what I’m doing.”

  He reached into his back pocket and came out with a small metal box. He pressed a button on it then put it to his ear. It took her a few seconds to realize what it was—an old phone. A museum piece.

  “Those don’t work anymore,” she said when the shock passed. “They haven’t worked for over eighty years.”

  The infuriating man winked at her. “Keep drinking, then we’ll clean you up and get out of here.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, but he suddenly started talking into the phone. Guess they did still work after all.

  “We were made. What the hell happened?”

  He turned away from her, his focus on the call, leaving her to wonder who her rescuer was, exactly, and if they were going to make it to La Paz in time to save her life.

  Chapter Five

  Striker worked to control his rage. The urge to hit out at something, anything, burned through him. All he needed was a target. Instead he had a bunch of questions and a woman he’d promised to protect. He watched Friday gulp her water. Just watching her calmed him. She’d done good. No hysterics. No acting out. She followed orders like a pro. Although her fitness needed work. Something he intended to help her with after they made it to La Paz.

  If they made it to La Paz.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Mace said in his ear, bringing his attention back to the phone conversation.

  “Enforcement should have followed you two, not us.”

  He peered out of the window as he spoke. The street was quiet. “Did anyone chase you?”

  “A couple of units. It took about ten minutes before we realized we didn’t have everyone’s full attention. By the time we’d doubled back, the tunnel was gone. Glad you made it out, man. You had us worried for a minute there.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Sandi shouted in the background, making him smile.

  His second-in-command huffed. “The more-human member of this duo was worried.”

  With a shake of his head, Striker interrupted, otherwise the siblings would fight all night. “When things settle, we need to look into why the stairs didn’t blow.”

  There was silence for a beat. “Seriously? You’re telling me that plume of smoke wasn’t from the charges we laid?”

  “Nope.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I blew up a couple of Enforcement vests.”

  “Fuck, Sergeant.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but you don’t float my boat.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Holed up in an empty house in South Munroe. We can’t stay here.” He watched Friday as she pulled herself to her feet, rolled up her pants, and started dabbing at the scrapes on her legs with a wet cloth.

  “We’ll get a transport to you asap. I’ll text when we’re close and need more specific directions.” There was a pause. “You don’t think she lied about taking Interferan-X, do you? They could be tracking her. That would explain why they found you so fast.”

  The siblings had been his backup in the bar during his meeting with Friday and had monitored everything that was said. But Mace hadn’t been able to see her face. The woman couldn’t lie worth a damn. There was no way she was an Enforcement mole.

  “I’ll talk to her. But I don’t think she’s lying.”

  There was a heavy sigh. “I’ll get the rest of the team onto this. See what we can dig up. We’ll bring your transport.”

  “Make it fast. The clock’s ticking here.”

  “Yeah. I heard. It’s gonna be tight getting to La Paz on time. I hope you know what you’re doing, man.”

  “So do I, but we need answers, and the little scientist may be able to provide them. It’s a chance we have to take.”

  “If we can get her out of this alive.”

  “Yeah, there is that.” He hung up and stared out into the night as he tucked the old phone back into his pocket. It was a relic. Just like him.

  Rubbing a hand over his bald head, he turned back to his latest job. Friday had found some new-skin spray and was dousing her scrapes. He strode over to her and took the spray from her hand.

  “Let me.” He crouched in front of her, spraying the cuts she’d missed, watching in fascination as skin-colored patches appeared where the abrasions used to be. “This stuff still blows my mind. It’s like magic.”

  He grinned up at her, and her brow puckered—a clear sign she was thinking. Again. The woman spent a whole lot of time thinking.

  “It isn’t magic.” She held out her hand for him to spray the palm. “The new-skin adheres to my skin and is gently absorbed into my epidermis over the time it takes for the wound to heal. While that’s happening, it transmits sensation as though it were actually part of my skin.”

  “So, if I were to do this?” He traced a finger over the palm of her hand in the spot he’d just sprayed.

  She shivered and cleared her throat. “Then I’d feel it the same way I’d feel it if you touched me somewhere else.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and he wondered if she was imagining all the other places he could touch. He sure as hell was. The little scientist was far too much temptation
for her own good. He’d be wise to put some distance between them, before he forgot their deal was only for her brain and not for the rest of her.

  She shifted in front of him, and his mind went blank again. She had a way of doing that, of stealing his thoughts and focusing his attention solely on her.

  “Meanwhile, under the layer of new-skin, the product is working to speed up healing in the damaged areas.” She blinked down at him as he crouched in front of her, her hand resting in his. “It increases the healing rate by roughly seventy percent.”

  “And in the meantime, it feels exactly like normal skin.”

  “Exactly.” She swallowed hard enough for him to see.

  “Are you sure about that, bébé? Have you tested the hypothesis?”

  “I don’t need to test it. I’m familiar with the research.”

  “Mm, I always find that doing your own research is the best way to be certain.” He looked up at her. “Close your eyes.”

  Her eyes actually got wider, making him chuckle. “Close your eyes. See if you can tell the difference.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Remember our deal, chère. What I want, when I want it.”

  She sucked in a breath. Fear and irritation flashed in her eyes before she did as she was told and her lashes fluttered shut. Her breathing sped up, and her cheeks were flushed. She almost killed him when she licked her dry lips. He traced a circle in the middle of her palm with his index finger. Her whole body became taut, waiting for his next touch. He took her other hand, the one that wasn’t damaged, and drew another circle in the exact same spot. She shivered.

  “Well?” he murmured, his voice suddenly hoarse.

  She trembled as he moved closer to her, but her eyes stayed closed, as though she’d forgotten she could open them.

  “The same.” The words were a croak. She cleared her throat. “The same. It felt the same.”

  “What about here?” He trailed his fingers over the inside of her wrist, first on her left arm, then her right.

  She gasped. Her eyes flew open, and dark pupils looked down at him. “There isn’t any new-skin there.”