Chapter Four

While the battle played out, Carreon waited in a room hidden within the stronghold's bowels. The area was reachable through a series of corridors, accessible only to those he summoned.

It was within this space that he'd trapped his father, who'd been foolish enough to let down his guard. At the sound of his son's footfalls that night, the older man had lifted his head from the breast of a woman who was decades younger. Her areola was cocoa-colored, tight, glistening from his tongue. His other mistress, equally youthful, had been behind him at the time, sucking his neck, her tapered nails stroking his cock.

Carreon recalled his father's look of irritation at the interruption of pleasure. His expression soon turned to confusion and finally shock at the men who rushed inside. His final transformation to pure fear took no more than a few seconds. By then, it was over. The ceilings and walls sprayed with blood, the stink of gunpowder masking the women's delicate perfumes and the odor of sex, the weapons' reports still ringing in Carreon's ears.

The stench of death and merciless noise disturbed him, but he'd waited to leave, making certain his father was beyond healing, which left him to rule the clan. He was the oldest son. His male siblings, all products of different mothers, had gone into hiding upon hearing what happened. They knew what their fate would be if they remained.

They'd learned that night what his father had not. Never trust family, especially a son who wanted it all for himself—his clan's territory and Neekoma's, along with the man's ability to see the future. What riches and power that would bring when nurtured in the right hands.

A matter Carreon couldn't dwell on right now.

Tonight's gunfire had stopped minutes before, the shouting and moans turning to an uneasy quiet.

In no hurry to investigate, Carreon remained in front of the fireplace, its conical shape Southwestern in design, its beige fa?ade flawless, the blood washed away, the bullet holes patched and painted, the air sweetened by lush plants and flowers that graced the arched niches or flowed down elevated platforms that were nearly as high as the ceiling. Over the door hung a monitor, its power source independent of the rest of the security system, the camera showing him what was on the other side.

Minutes before, he'd used a two-way radio to summon his men. Three of them now came down the brightly lit hall, their strides purposeful, obedient to his wishes.

"Remove your weapons," Carreon ordered.

The youngest of the trio, Willy, jerked slightly even though he held no rifle or pistol. He glanced around as though to see where his boss's voice had come from. The other two men lowered their submachine guns to the floor, after which they removed the spare Glocks they carried in their waistbands and around their ankles. The metal detector and full-body scanner prior to the door assured no one entered the safe room armed in any way. A matter Carreon had seen to after his father's death.

Once the men had straightened, he regarded them. Thomas, the one on the left, was brawny from bodybuilding, his gray shirt and thick neck spattered with blood. Dark splotches also stained Hector's clothes that draped his lean, muscled frame. He and Thomas looked straight ahead at the door, not at the camera. Willy shifted from foot to foot, much as a little boy would when he has to pee or as a man does when he has something to fear.

His shirt and slacks bore no trace of blood. They were too pristine.

Carreon pressed a button on the control panel to his side. With a muffled whoosh, the reinforced steel door opened. Hector and Thomas stepped in first, followed by Willy. Carreon pressed another button. Willy glanced over as the door closed on its own, the sound of its harsh metal lock reverberating through the room.

"Why haven't you brought me Neekoma's men?" Carreon asked.

At his mild tone, Willy stared, bewilderment and dread obvious on his twentysomething face.

Carreon ignored the man, concentrating on the others. "Did you let them escape as Neekoma did?"

"We captured one," Thomas offered. The room's subdued lighting sparkled off the sweat glistening on his forehead and upper lip. His rich complexion was darker than usual, blood rushing to his face. He was a trusted lieutenant, firing upon Carreon's father as ordered, not questioning the assassination in the least.

"One," Carreon repeated.

Again, Willy shifted his weight. Thomas and Hector seemed incapable of movement, their attention remaining on Carreon's face, not his hands still at his sides, posing no danger.

"What of the others?" he asked.

Hector frowned. "The fucking cowards ran into the desert. Our men followed but lost sight of them. It's as though they vanished."

Or more likely escaped into a tunnel. One of a vast network Carreon sensed Zeke's people had constructed to hide where they'd built their stronghold, keeping their clan safe from attack.

"Where's the man you caught?" Carreon asked. Without him, he had no hope of finding where Zeke was hiding or where he'd taken Liz. From within the walls, Carreon had listened to her fighting Zeke, trying to get free. "Why didn't you bring him in here?" He reached inside his silk jacket.

Thomas's wiry brows lifted slightly in what seemed to be alarm or dismay as though he knew Carreon was going for his weapon. However, he made no other move, even forgetting to breathe. Flight at this point was useless.

Carreon pulled out a linen handkerchief, wiping his hands with it.

Hector let out an audible sigh then blurted, "When we cornered him, he refused to put down his gun."

"Before we could stop him, he used it on himself," Thomas said.

Carreon balled the handkerchief in his fist. So, the man had sacrificed his life rather than face torture, the possibility of revealing the location of his clan's stronghold, its weaknesses. Did he or anyone else honestly believe that would stop Carreon from capturing Zeke again, after which he'd force him to divulge what the future held? Of course, that should have happened already, shouldn't it?

He fought the urge to drive his fist through the wall or bury it in each of these men's guts and listen to their startled huffs, appeased by their groans. "How many men did I lose tonight—those that can't be healed?"

Hector and Thomas exchanged a glance. Willy shrank back, leaving them to come up with an answer.

"Ten," Hector said.

A growl rose to the base of Carreon's throat. He pushed it back. Even one loss would have been far too many, and all because Zeke's men had outwitted them. They'd discovered the stronghold simply by following Carreon's lieutenants when they'd brought Zeke here.

Idiots. Fucking fools. Hadn't they watched to see if anyone had been tailing them? "Are there any that can still be healed?"

Hector looked at Thomas.

"Maybe," the man answered. "But Neekoma took Liz with him. By the time we found out he had her, they were gone."

"We have her father," Carreon reminded them both then spoke to Willy. "You've kept Dr. Munez well?"

He nodded so eagerly the ends of his lanky hair bobbed. "Yes, of course."

Carreon stepped closer. "You're certain of that?"

Willy crossed his arms over his chest. It didn't stop him from trembling. "I monitor him closely, just as you've asked me to. He's in perfect health."

"Except for being drugged." Carreon turned to Thomas. "Is Dr. Munez alert enough to heal our men?"

He looked at Hector for help. His colleague said nothing. Thomas glared at Willy. "I don't think so."

"You drugged the good doctor into unconsciousness?" Carreon asked.

Willy stepped back. "He kept trying to escape. I didn't want to handcuff him to the bed. I—"

Carreon interrupted, "You didn't want to have to deal with him if he was alert."

"That's not true." He bounced on his heels. "He refused to heal any of our men. There was no reason for him to be awake. I did what was necessary to keep him here. The drug should wear off in no more than an hour or two, I swear. You can tell him then that Neekoma has his daughter. That he has to heal our men so we can find her."

"Do our injured have an hour or two?" Carreon asked Thomas.

"Two might. The others don't."

Willy cried, "You told me to keep him here. You insisted I do whatever it took to keep him from escaping. This isn't my fault."

Spittle clung to the sides of his mouth. He'd squeezed his skinny arms to the point that his veins bulged out, his fear making him look more like a child than a man. In a moment, he'd be sobbing like a woman.

Carreon lifted his hand. Willy flinched.

Slipping his handkerchief into his inside jacket pocket, Carreon murmured, "You're right. The fault is mine. Forgive me."

His chin quivered. Tears sparkled on the edges of his lashes. "I…of course."

Carreon smiled.

Willy managed a meager one. His mouth jumped with tension then froze in disbelief as Carreon removed his Glock and fired, hitting the younger man between his eyes. His body collapsed to the floor. The heels of his shoes tapped the hardwood, the sound lost beneath the gun's report.

Hector and Thomas didn't spare their fallen colleague a glance. Their attention remained on Carreon's gun.

He spoke loudly, his ears still ringing, "Which one of you was responsible for the security and the cameras?"

"Him." Thomas gestured to Hector.

He shouted, "That's a fucking lie. We both worked on it."

"But I can only punish one of you," Carreon said. He swung his weapon from him to Thomas, who'd helped kill his father and made the way clear for his command.

Despite the man's instinct to throw up his arm and turn away, the bullet was faster, tearing through his throat. Blood sprayed in a wide arc then gurgled out. Carreon frowned at the renewed ringing in his ears. He watched Thomas fall then writhe in agony as he neared death.

"Too bad Dr. Munez won't be alert in time to heal you," Carreon said. "Too bad your colleague didn't take greater care with our security system."

"Give me another chance, please," Hector begged, his hands held out in surrender. "No security's perfect. Any system can be breached."

"As we learned tonight." Carreon slipped his Glock back into his shoulder holster then smoothed down his jacket. "Before I ordered you and the others to this room, I spoke to Victor. He has your wife and son. If you fail again, as you did this evening, they both die while you watch. Is that understood?"

An anguished moan escaped him.

Carreon gestured to the two bodies. "I want this and the mess in the rest of the stronghold cleaned up. Come daybreak, I want a group of men searching the desert for tracks, showing the route Neekoma's men took. I want them searching for tunnels." Stepping back, he pressed the button to open the door. "Before another night passes, I want Neekoma's life and power in my hands."

She didn't fight him as Zeke had expected. She asked no more questions. He sensed she feared the answers he'd give or more likely didn't believe a fucking thing he said.

He should have released her so she could return to the other side of the van. He should have treated her like the enemy she was.

His arm remained draped across her waist as though it had always belonged there, his fingers resting on the flare of her hip. Adversary or not, he found it impossible to ignore her, stirred by her alluring femininity. Her skin was softer than suede, warm with life, her scent intoxicating. The violet fragrance reminded Zeke of spring days as a boy, running through the desert's wildflowers with his friends, laughing with the spontaneity of youth, unmindful of the trouble maturity would bring.

Not that being a man was without its rewards.

Liz reminded Zeke of how glad he was to be of age. Musk perfumed her skin, bringing him back to their moments in Carreon's stronghold, him mounting her in full view of the others, sinking his cock deep within her slick cunt. He recalled how tight and hot she'd been, submissive to his passion while matching it with her own.

And now she was his prisoner, her fate in his hands, her body a temptation for him to seek at night. In the privacy of his room, she could minister to his male needs as a female was born to do.

He grew fevered at the thought, imagining himself naked, sprawled across his mattress, hands behind his head, proving who was boss with one command.

"Pleasure me."

In his fantasy, color tinted her cheeks. However, he knew Liz wasn't the type of woman to acquiesce easily. She'd make him wait for satisfaction. Proving it, she ran her fingers over his collarbone first, then each nipple, followed by a lazy perusal of his torso that had him wiggling in place, wanting more, demanding everything.

Her openmouthed kiss on his left pec was a damned good start. The way she stroked his underarms and the tangle of hair in his pits was also pleasant. She licked his areolas then tongued the dark hairs circling his navel before moving on to his thickened cock.

"No." He cupped the back of her head, stopping her from taking his crown in her mouth. "I want you on top of me. Now."

In a show of disobedience, she lapped his wrist.

The wet heat of her tongue was enough to drag a moan from him, though it was hardly enough to gratify his carnal appetite. He frowned, and she finally behaved, straddling his body, easing her pussy down his stiffened rod, swallowing his length until their bodies touched and he found it impossible to think. The room spun.

He murmured, "Play with your nipples."

"I'd rather you played with them."

"No." He swallowed at her cunt's incredible heat then panted, "You're going to do all the work."

If she disapproved, she offered no protest, rolling her left nipple between her fingers, making the tip harder, longer, while fondling her other breast. The lavish lines of her body absorbed Zeke as few things had. He studied the moist skin between her cleavage, her curly brown bush, full hips, shapely thighs.

"Your clit," he said, "touch it."

Liz combed her pubic hair with her fingers then separated the folds of her sex and stroked herself as she rode him.

Watching her made him harder than Zeke would have believed possible. His cock strained against her inner walls, the pleasurable rasp driving him wild. Their bodies made brief smacking sounds as they touched. His balls were so tight the skin seemed ready to split.

She inhaled sharply, releasing the air on an uneven sigh. Lowering her face, she wore a look of mounting tension that told him she was a breath away from orgasm.

Not allowing her to reach it, Zeke grabbed her wrists, ignoring her frustrated growl, rolling them over so he'd be on top. There, he took her, pounding his cock into her cunt until the only sounds she made were pleas for him not to stop.

Yeah, right. Don't bet on it.

Zeke rolled his eyes at such an idiotic fantasy but made no move to quell his need. He rubbed his cheek and the tip of his nose against her glorious hair, delighting in its silky texture and the fact that she didn't try to deny what he wanted. Nor did she shrink away from his obvious erection. On some level, she enjoyed his arousal and touch, the man he was. The question was how long it would last.

She'd wanted to know where he was taking her.

The answer was easy and complicated as hell. He was bringing her to a reality no vision had warned him of prior to tonight's events. If it had…

He gritted his teeth to keep sorrow and anger from edging closer or overwhelming him. His visions had shown Zeke his injuries and near death, but not that of his—

No. He couldn't go there or let his emotions surface. They clouded his visions much as they did a man's judgment. He had to maintain control. With Liz in his possession, he'd be able to complete his plan.

And then what?

Let her return so she could continue to heal Carreon's men, or keep her so that she could save his people whenever that monster attacked them? So that she'd be there for him to enjoy.

Without thinking, Zeke cupped her breast, dragging his thumb over her nipple.

She stiffened.

Her response snapped him back to reality faster than a slap or a lethal threat. Zeke warned himself to cool it and consider how she must feel, given how her night had turned out. He recalled what she'd said about her father, the distressing heartache he'd heard in her voice and seen on her face as she'd spoken of him.

He'd told her the man was safe, but only because he hadn't seen his murder in his mind as he'd seen hers. However, that didn't mean her father was out of harm's way. No matter what Carreon thought or Liz suspected, Zeke knew his gift wasn't perfect. Far from it. He saw things that involved himself, strangers or people he hated. When it came to the ones he loved, his visions were silent, refusing to help him stop the coming tragedy and pain.

His shoulders bunched at the fucking stupidity of such a useless gift. It was a bitch for him to breathe. Rarely had Zeke felt as useless, unable to save those he should. He hated keeping Liz from her father, but he had to have her help. He couldn't deny his brother that.

With great care, he eased her closer, moderating his strength, holding her in a gentle embrace meant to comfort.

After a moment's hesitation, she relaxed a bit.

He waited, keeping his actions as nonthreatening as he could.

In time, she released her weight into him as though she was beginning to trust…or was too exhausted to fight. He wondered how they might have reacted to each other in a normal world where they'd been out for a night of fun, eating at a restaurant, enjoying a movie. Expecting to end the evening fucking like crazy rather than sitting naked in the back of a van, barreling toward his stronghold where his people waited to hear the news of his rescue or death.

Always fearful of Carreon's presence, his men didn't dare use cell phones that might reveal the users' locations or directions, exposing them to attack.

Zeke mouthed an oath then sighed.

With the sound, Liz leaned to the side and looked over, her mouth no more than a few inches from his.

It was an effort for him not to sigh again, this time at her sweetly scented breath. Not from toothpaste or mints but from the vibrant life that flowed through her. The sensations it produced did wicked things to him, stiffening his cock even more, tensing his muscles, driving away all hesitation, which left only animal need.

Liz didn't seem alarmed at his obvious lust. She said nothing nor did she move, waiting as though to see what he intended to do with her.

His thoughts were back in his X-rated fantasy. Thankfully, he was able to make his body behave. He continued to hold her without menace, wanting Liz to know he wasn't scum like Carreon. Never in his life had Zeke harmed a woman or taken one against her will.

Liz continued to study him, not seeming to notice or care how bumpy the ride had become.

Zeke increased his hold to keep her steady then chanced running his thumb over her hip, testing her reaction.

"Do you have my father?" she asked.

A rush of heat prickled his skin. His mind raced for an answer. He could lie and make things easy on himself, or he could tell her the truth she deserved to know. Not much of a choice, really. He knew firsthand the sorrow of losing family, having learned that hard lesson when he was only thirteen and his father had died in battle with Carreon's clan. At fifteen, he'd lost his mother to the same fate. As a man, he understood how the bond of blood and shared experience anchored one to this world and made them kind, willing to risk all for someone they loved.

"No," he said. "He's not with my people."

Shock then anger crossed her features. She shoved his arm from her and turned to face him as best she could. "Then where is he?"

"I don't know."

"What?" Her shout rang through the van's narrow interior. "You said he was safe. You said—"

"I told you what my visions showed me. I never saw your father, only you and Carreon. He…" Zeke paused as images flashed in his mind, snatches of what was to come. Carreon's earring reflecting the light, sending a prism of color to his cheek. His predatory stare, no different from a wildcat hunting his prey. Liz's mouth forming words Zeke couldn't hear. Her moving toward Carreon rather than away. Carreon's hand stroking her hair then reaching for her throat.

Zeke blinked rapidly, trying to erase the memories of his vision. He whispered, "I saw you die."

A small moan escaped her.

He took her hand. Liz snatched it back. "You didn't see my father? Could Carreon have killed him first? Was I fighting him? Is that what it was about?"

Zeke struggled with what to tell her and finally decided on the truth. "In my vision, you didn't look angry. You seemed terrified, as though he'd surprised you."

"Were we at his stronghold?" She grabbed his forearm, demanding answers. "Did you see anything that you recognized when you were there tonight?"

How in the hell was he supposed to answer that? He'd been near death when Carreon's men had brought him inside, his mind and soul trying to reconnect with Gabrielle. Once healed, he'd only been concerned with the gunfire and trying to get the fuck out of there.

"Please," she said, digging her nails into his skin. "You have to tell me."

Zeke thought back, trying to force details to surface. He recalled Carreon's earring glinting with more light as he turned, a tear clinging to one of Liz's lashes and falling to her cheek, then—

"What?" she asked.

"I saw yours and Carreon's faces and a dim view of what was around you. Maybe a bookcase and a fireplace. I don't know."

"You're saying you can't bring the vision back?"

"Not the way you want. They arise from nowhere then disappear like a dream when you wake up. Just bits of what I've seen remain."

"You said we were by a bookcase and a fireplace. Were the colors light, dark? Was what you saw tall, short?"

He shook his head, helpless to answer. "I don't know."

"Damn you, you're lying."

"Why would I about that?"

"How the hell should I know?" She brought back her hand. "Maybe it's your nature. You lied to me about my father."

Zeke grabbed her arm and kept her from turning from him. "Listen to me. Your father's safe from Carreon. I've never seen him in jeopardy from that piece of shit. My vision showed Carreon with you. You're the one who's in danger from him and only him."

Liz regarded his hand on her. "But not from you? Never you?"

He released her arm. "Whatever I say, you're not likely to believe it, are you, Liz? Tell me, do you really believe I intend to harm you?"

Her outrage hung on for a moment then evaporated beneath a mixture of frustration and embarrassment, proving she didn't fear him. Pushing her hair back, she fooled with it as Zeke waited for her next accusation or maybe an apology. He almost smiled at the thought.

She asked, "Did your visions show Carreon or his men harming Jacob tonight?"

Caught off guard, Zeke couldn't stop the flood of pain coursing through him. He swallowed then shook his head.

"Are you kidding?" She looked dumbfounded. "What good is your gift if it didn't show you that?"

Zeke couldn't recall a moment when he'd felt wearier. "Damned if I know. It's not something I've asked for or ever wanted, you know?"

As though she did, Liz made a small sound of compassion then eased a strand of hair behind his ear, her fingertips grazing his cheek.

Jesus. The unspoken understanding in her touch stripped away all of Zeke's defenses, leaving him helpless. He wanted her body wrapped around his, their breathing and heartbeats in rhythm, their combined heat chasing away all that was bad, providing a bit of hope that someday there'd be a real future for both their clans. There'd be a chance to laugh. To dream.

"Was Jacob deliberately targeted tonight?" she asked.

"No." He frowned. "He was trying to save me."

"From Carreon's ambush?"

Zeke shook his head. "We learned from our usual sources where he'd be tonight. The location put him in a precarious position, and I decided to kill the bastard once and for all for what his men had done to Gabrielle."

Liz cradled his fist in her hands, running her fingertips over his knuckles.

He stopped squeezing them, suddenly aware of how they hurt, her light strokes draining some of the tension from him.

"What happened?" she asked.

What didn't? He pushed his free hand through his hair, pulling it away from his face.

"Jacob argued against me going, saying it might be a trap. I didn't care. When I refused to listen to him, he lied, claiming Carreon would arrive later than he actually did. Jacob went in my place to attack him." He muttered an oath at his damn, bullheaded brother. "Carreon wasn't there. It was a trap, just as Jacob had thought. When he surprised Carreon's people, they fired on him and the men he'd brought along. None of our other men were hurt. They brought Jacob back to the stronghold. When I saw the extent of his injuries, I left to find you."

"That's when they attacked you."

"They tried to take me prisoner. I wouldn't let them. I fired. They fired. You know the rest."

"Did your visions warn you of the attack and you almost dying?"

"I told you, they aren't like TV programs, all right?"

"But they did give you a glimpse into your future," she said. "Don't deny it. I can see the truth on your face. What in the hell's the matter with you? Why did you put your life at risk to go through with it? Wasn't there another way to save Jacob?"

Zeke had to wonder why she was asking. Because it would have spared her from being kidnapped tonight, or because she cared just a bit about a man she'd been born to hate?

"I knew you'd heal me," he said. "I saw it in my mind. I had to put myself at risk, not only to save Jacob but so Carreon's men would bring me to his stronghold. It was the only way my people could follow and see where it was, learn its weaknesses. Now we know."

Liz released his hand. "I can't leave my father. I have to get back before Carreon does anything to him."

"Why would he?"

"It's how he keeps me in line. Ever since my father refused to heal for him, Carreon's depended upon me, imprisoning my father to make certain of it."

"Then he won't be harming him," Zeke said. "With you gone, your father's all that Carreon has left, unless others in your clan have your same gift."

"They don't. Not really."

"And that means?"

She scratched the rough carpeting with her thumbnail. "They can't heal to the degree that my father and I do. Hell, I can't heal the way he does. All he has to do is lay his palm on the injured, and they're all right. I—well, you know what I have to do."

"I'll never forget."

She sighed as if he'd said a dirty word. "None of the others in my clan has the mark. It proves my father's gift, and mine to a lesser degree, are the strongest."

Zeke took her hand, regarding the reddish stain in the center of her palm. His first thought was to kiss it. However, he wasn't that brave a man, fearing her rejection. He traced the dark oval with his forefinger, stunned by the brief spark of energy, the sense of life flowing from her body into his.

She folded her fingers to stop him.

"Carreon won't harm your father," Zeke said. "He may be worse than an animal, but he's no fool. As long as he needs someone, they'll remain alive."

"Can you guarantee that?"

When he said nothing, she pulled her hand away.

"I didn't do this to harm you or those you love," he said. "I don't want your pain any more than I believe you want mine."

She glanced at her claw marks on his chest. "You're sure of that?"

He stopped his smile, figuring she wouldn't appreciate it. "Very. What are you doing?"

She touched the deepest of his injuries. He flinched at the uncomfortable sting.

"Does it hurt that badly?" she asked.

"No."

"How about this?"

Damn. Zeke clenched his teeth at the pain shooting down his arm. He frowned at the raw flesh where his snake's head tattoo had once been. Someone had cut it out. When?

"Burns, huh?" Liz asked.

Zeke managed not to wince. "Not at all."

"Liar." Leaning close, she laid her palm over one of the injuries she'd caused. "Does this help?"

A fucking lot more than she'd ever know and not only because of her healing touch. The sting on his pec ebbed, replaced by a surge of tenderness and gratitude—something he hadn't felt in far too long for anyone outside his clan. "I'm not sure. You better not stop until I am."

She made a dismissive sound, the kind women use to let men know they're being jerks. However, her attention traveled from his chest and abs to his growing erection, evident in the dim moonlight streaming into the back of the van. His arousal didn't seem to embarrass or disturb her.

Emboldened, Zeke covered her hand with his. "Are you healing me again?"

"Not entirely."

What was that supposed to mean? "You're not certain either?"

"It's not that." She hesitated then shrugged. "Wherever we stop, you should consider putting alcohol or peroxide on those abrasions to avoid infection."

"I'm not following. You were willing to heal my bullet wounds but not the scratches you gave me?"

Her expression grew even more guarded. "After I heal Jacob…that is, if I can, do you intend—"

"Wait a minute." Zeke brought back his hand. "What do you mean if you can?"

Liz kept her palm on his pec, stroking it, playing with the small point of his nipple. Heat rushed to his groin. He curled his toes.

She murmured, "Your people's DNA is different from that of my clan. I wasn't all that certain I'd be able to save you."

"But you did. And I'll be forever grateful." He kissed her fingertips, risking her disapproval, the chance that she'd pull away.

She didn't. In the scant light, he saw her cheeks flushing just as they had in his fantasy, her eyes growing glassy with desire.

"You'll do the same for Jacob," he said.

Something passed over her face, chasing away her arousal. "And then what?"

Zeke released her hand.

She didn't back off. "I deserve an answer. What happens after I heal your brother? Are you going to let me return to my father, or are you going to keep me a prisoner so I can heal others of your clan?"

He matched her frown. "Would you rather see them die?"

"Are you nuts?" she snapped. "I don't want anyone to die; that's the point. Whether I heal your men or Carreon's, the outcome is always the same, isn't it? Endless fighting and more death. Not everyone wants carnage, Zeke. Maybe if I don't heal anyone that will change."

She couldn't be that na?ve. "For who?" he countered. "Carreon? Me? The men who fight with us, or the children and women he targets?" Zeke cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Would you let those innocents die? Would you have refused to help my daughter all in the name of peace that Carreon and the goons that follow him will never give?"

Her mouth trembled. "How can you even ask that? If I could have saved Gabrielle, I would have. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. But you're wrong about my people. Not all of them are like Carreon. They regret allowing him to come to power. This has to end. I refuse to be a party to it any longer." She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

The pose she struck did little to enhance her determination or to hide her nudity. If anything, she appeared more vulnerable than Zeke could have imagined.

He found it difficult to believe she'd ever been Carreon's woman. How could she have craved the man, given what he'd done to his own people and her father? What lies had Carreon told Liz to have brought her to his side?

What did it matter? She was with him now, where Zeke intended for her to stay.

Liz must have read his expression because she scooted farther away, her breasts jostling with that and the van's movements.

"I'll heal Jacob as you want," she said, "but then I have to go back. I have my father to think of as much as you do your brother."

Zeke wasn't about to comment, wanting her to believe whatever made her feel good.

She glared at him. "No matter how miraculous you believe my gift is because it saved you, it's not what you think. It could kill as well as heal. There are things about it even I don't know."

"What are you talking about?"

"From the time I was little, my father warned me to be careful with it. When I asked him why, he'd always hold back, telling me that I had an obligation to heal only those I believed could survive. No one else. I still don't know what he meant. I asked him if he was talking about brain damage. He'd never give me a straight answer. To this day, I don't know what my gift will do exactly.

"I've learned through trial and error that it does speed healing, but it won't cure in the normal sense. I can't lay my hands on someone with cancer or any other terminal illness and rid them of the disease. I can only heal the damage for a short time, after which it may come back."

Instinctively, Zeke touched the healed wounds on his chest. "Are you saying what you fixed on me tonight won't last?"

"That's different. Bullets, not disease, nearly killed you. With the appropriate medical care, you would have survived. All I did was speed up the healing process, as I've said."

"Without an operating room or surgeons. Trust me, your gift is remarkable."

"Haven't you heard anything I've said? I loathe it as much as you do yours. It's brought us to this. You almost dying. Your brother injured. My father a prisoner. My mother dead."

Another surprise he hadn't expected. "Was Carreon responsible?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. "It looked like any other auto accident; at least that's what the cops claimed. She was out during a storm. Her car hydroplaned and went off the road. By the time my father got there, he couldn't save her. What we have isn't perfect, Zeke. Neither are your visions if they didn't warn you well ahead of time what Jacob intended to do tonight."

He argued, "You're here, so it worked out. It will work out."

"You can't know—" She stopped as the van slowed, and the moon disappeared, throwing the back of the van into darkness.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where are we?"

A tunnel built into the side of the mountain. A place so hidden and inaccessible, Carreon's men couldn't find it.

"My people's stronghold," he said.