CHAPTER FOUR
“Sterling!” Becca shouted, fighting the grip of the man carrying her away from the house, the one who’d shot Sterling in the bedroom, twisting and turning in a struggle to get free.
Her gaze reached beyond her captor’s bulky shoulders to latch on to Sterling, the sight of him bringing a moment of hope. “Sterling!”
He saw her. She was sure of it, but then he stumbled. He was falling. Becca screamed, realizing he’d been shot again, and watched as a group of soldiers charged him, praying they were his men, that they would save him. He’d taken those bullets for her. She was supposed to die, not him—she was already dying.
The injustice, the terror for Sterling, tore through her, and adrenaline launched her into action all over again. She fought against the bulky man holding her—teeth, nails, fists. She was fighting for her life, fighting to get back to Sterling. God, he was going to die. She just knew it. She had to get him help.
“Fucking bitch,” the man holding her muttered and then flung her across the bed of an eighteen-wheeler that had appeared at the back of her house. She flew across the hard steel floor and hit the wall, gasping, her bones rattling with the impact. Somehow she scrambled to a sitting position just in time to see Sterling’s bleeding, broken body flung across the truck bed toward her, a trail of blood following his body. So much blood…too much blood.
She scrambled to his side, only to realize the big man was standing over her, as if he’d traveled superspeed, jerking her head back by a large chunk of her hair.
He produced a vial of clear liquid. “Swallow it.”
“No!” She tried to shake her head, and he pulled her hair. “No!”
A gun appeared in his hand, and he pointed it at Sterling’s head. “He won’t survive a bullet in the brain. You decide. Does he live or die?”
He meant it. She saw it in his eyes. He hated Sterling. He wanted to kill him, if he hadn’t already succeeded. There was too much of Sterling’s blood on the steel floor pooling around his body for him to survive. Too many bullets were buried deep inside him, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up on him.
“I’ll take it.” She held out her hand and received a gloating smile in return. He disposed of his gun and handed the vial to her, but the grip on her hair tightened mercilessly.
Becca sucked down the chilly liquid, coughing at a bitter cold sensation that felt more like fire than ICE in her throat, seconds before the burn in her lungs began.
The man squatted beside her, his big body pressed to her side, his lips to her ear. “My name is Tad, and I’m the man who just cured your cancer and became your drug dealer. That makes me your new sugar daddy.” He held up another vial. “When you start shaking, and you need another hit, we’ll talk about what payment we expect in return. And just so you know, in case you get any ideas about being disloyal to us, if you miss just one dose of your new cure, you die from withdrawal. In other words, we own you.” He motioned to Sterling. “Not him. Not any of his kind.”
His kind. Becca had no idea what that meant. He let go of her and stood up, glaring down at her with a lusty dark look that made the ICE in her veins downright arctic. When he finally turned away, he was a blur of movement before the steel doors slammed shut, sealing them inside with the same suffocating effect she imagined her own coffin would deliver. Only a small light flickered overhead.
Her fingers balled in Sterling’s shirt, feeling his wet, thick blood on her skin. Fear and anger collided inside her, exploded from her in a fierce yell. “Who are you people?”
The only answer was the sound of her heavy breathing. It filled the trailer, bounced off the walls and back at her. Her body tingled, her lungs expanded, and she felt air filtering through them without one hint of pain or discomfort. But she felt no hope, no joy. The cure was a drug-induced facade, and this was a nightmare.
“Wake up,” she whispered, pressing her hands to Sterling’s body, to his face, the damn blood clinging to her hands. “Wake up! Damn it, Sterling, wake up!” She collapsed over the top of him, pressed her ear to his chest, searching desperately for a heartbeat, and sighing in relief when she found it. Slowly Becca relaxed against him, his soft rhythmic heart calming her even as the truck began to move, the last thing she remembered before blacking out.
Sterling came awake abruptly, but he didn’t move, didn’t so much as breathe. Training and instinct kept his lashes securely closed, allowed him to absorb the hard and unforgiving concrete beneath his body. Discreetly, he inhaled, reaching with his enhanced GTECH senses to find the familiar scent he’d hoped to never experience again—Area 51, now Adam’s Zodius City.
Stickiness clung to his shirt, but remarkably, considering the number of Green Hornets Tad had unloaded in him, his GTECH immune system had kicked into gear, and his body felt nearly healed. He translated that to mean two things—his body would have needed at least twelve hours of sleep, maybe double that to heal. And in order for that to happen, someone had removed the Green Hornets from his wounds and given him an injection of vitamin C to offset the chronic depletion, common to GTECHs, that worsened in the healing process.
He inhaled deeper, and another softer, sweeter scent touched his lips. “Becca.” He jerked to a sitting position, back against more glass, finding himself alone in some sort of glass cage overlooking a lab, where several white coats worked.
He dropped his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, willing her to be alive—he’d find her and get the hell out of here.
A television screen hung from the corner wall flickered to life, and Sterling brought it into focus, only to bolt to his feet at the sight of Tad kneeling over Becca’s limp body, pouring a clearly evident vial of ICE down her throat. Tad turned to the monitor and smiled, running his hands down Becca’s hair, petting her.
“You sonofabitch!” Sterling roared, every nerve in his body on fire, every pore seething with anger. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you and enjoy it.”
Tad came closer to the camera. “I’m sure you can imagine all the things I’m planning to do to her.” The screen went black, and the doors behind him slid open.
Sterling whirled around, ready to launch himself on the visitor, only to find two wolves snarling at him with the promise of attack. Adam’s wolves. His command of the beasts was well known, his use of them for punishment and entertainment also well known. Defy Adam, even look at him wrong, and you’d end up in an old Roman-style coliseum beneath Area 51. With thousands of Zodius citizens watching, you’d battle the wolves until you were near death. And where there were wolves, there was…Adam.
Dressed in desert camouflage fatigues, Adam entered the room, leaving the glass wall open behind him. Well over six foot two with a muscular frame and light brown hair, he was his brother’s evil doppelganger, as if the GTECH serum had somehow divided them between good and evil.
“You want to kill me,” Adam said, assessing Sterling with a smile on his lips.
“Damn straight I do,” Sterling ground out between gritted teeth.
“You want to kill me over the woman.”
“The reasons to kill you are many,” he replied cautiously, certain this conversation was going nowhere good fast. “Should I count them out, or would you rather hear the many ways I’ve fantasized about completing the task?”
Laughter roared from Adam. “You have balls to stand here in my cage, in my world, and dare to threaten me. I like you, Sterling.” He leaned against the wall, the wolves settling at his feet. “More importantly, my brother likes you, and he will not want to see you dead when we finally reconcile and rule as one.”
“He’ll die before he joins you.”
“Sooner or later he will stop fighting what is truth. That I am in him as he is in me,” Adam said, tilting his head to study Sterling. “Did you know your little Rebecca Burns took her first dose of ICE because Tad held a gun to your head? The irony is that the ICE is curing her cancer. A few more doses, and she should be good as new.”
Sterling went colder than ICE, his emotions shredded by conflicting reactions. The cancer was being cured, but Becca was addicted to ICE. And just like the original serum, no one else could figure out how to replicate ICE, which made Adam her only source of survival until an antidote was found.
“Of course,” Adam added. “There is the risk of death during withdrawal if she discontinues the use of ICE, not to mention the risk her cancer might return. I’m sure you would agree. She shouldn’t take any chances.”
“You’re a bastard, Adam.”
“But I’m her bastard hero.”
Anger coiled inside him, and Sterling lunged forward. The wolves snarled and blocked his path.
“You want her,” Adam said. “Good. I’ll give her to you. I’ll keep Tad and all the other men away from her. That’s right. As much as my wife wants to use her for fertility testing, I won’t let her.” He paused, letting the implications fill the silence.
Sterling’s fingers curled by his sides, his thoughts going exactly where directed. To the sex camps where the women were traded from soldier to soldier in hopes one of them would find the rare Lifebond connection that mated them and allowed the production of offspring.
“You can save her from such a fate,” Adam offered slyly. “She’ll be yours and yours alone, and you don’t even have to give up my brother’s secrets to get her.”
Right. And Sterling was going to become the president of the United States. Adam was manipulating him, playing a game to get what he wanted. “Get to the point, Adam.”
“Dead ICE addicts do me no good. Nor do junkies who cannot think while anticipating their next hit. I want them lucidly addicted and under my command. Becca will perform better to aid this effort if she is functioning of her own free will. You will see to it that she does. As long as you make sure she cooperates, no one touches her but you.”