was already falling fast, and she didn’t even care. Not when they both were going to die in a few days. Falling for Draden seemed the only sane thing to do.
“Her name was Helena and she was everything we could have wanted in a mother. She showed us what our lives could have been. She was about forty-five, and I think she must have always wanted children because she treated us as her own.” She had to smile, remembering those bright days. “Helena believed in laughter and she taught that to us. How laughter could change every situation into something good. She did too. We loved her, and we learned what love was.”
His fingers stroked caresses over the back of her hand. “I feel that in you. Your skin is like the petals of that flower I love so much. Soft. Beautiful. Perfect.”
He was drifting. She could tell, and her heart reacted, thundering in response to his touch and his unguarded compliments.
“Go to sleep, Draden, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
7
Shylah Cosmos was an unexpected gift. Draden moved like a ghost in the forest, so silently, insects rarely were disturbed. He felt his way, even moving fast. Having someone with him he suddenly cared about could have been his worst nightmare, but Shylah was as much a ghost as he was. He couldn’t find fault with her at all. She had the same feeling for placing her feet carefully, no matter what kind of pace he set.
She was at home in the trees. She was a gazelle on the forest floor. Her instincts were dead-on. Draden had feared she would slow him down or he would worry so much about her that his attention would be divided, but he found himself treating her the way he did his fellow GhostWalkers. He gave her his highest respect by not questioning where she was at any given moment. He moved with his normal speed and never once checked to see if she could keep up, after their initial start.
Shylah seemed to be in perfect sync with him, as if they had been hunting the enemy for years together. That strengthened his belief that the woman had been paired with him. Whitney had the idea that a pair of soldiers, male and female, could be sent out together and they would be just as successful as a unit of soldiers if they had the right weapons. By that, he meant if they were the right weapons.
They had both fallen asleep the previous night, his head in Shylah’s lap, her hands in his hair. It should have been uncomfortable for him. He’d never spent a night with anyone since he was twelve and learned how vulnerable he could be in sleep. Even with his fellow GhostWalkers, he set himself a little apart and spread a few traps around him. He always slept with weapons at his fingertips, and he woke several times to check his surroundings. With Shylah, he just slept.
She was the most relaxing person he’d ever been around. When he did stir, it was because she moved, sliding down onto the mattress with him. He’d simply rolled onto his side, his body around hers, his arm curling around her waist. They both slept.
Once in his arms, Shylah made no noise and didn’t move. He woke first and looked down at her face, her flawless skin with the dusting of freckles across her nose and under her eyes. The feathery fan of lashes. She was on her side as well, and her hand was tucked under the pillow. He lifted the edge with two fingers to see her fingers curled around the hilt of a knife. Her gun was within reach of her other hand. They’d slept all of the night and most of the day away.
It was taking a chance to go after the MSS in daylight hours, but he didn’t have much time left. He was hot, sweat dripping occasionally, and his mind still felt chaotic. In spite of that, Draden had found himself smiling. He was infected with a killer disease and he was waking with a smile. He assessed his body carefully because he needed to be able to handle himself in a fight. Other than the vicious headache, he was still functioning. The site of the dart entry was swollen and red. His temperature was definitely up. His muscles hurt, but strangely, the effects of the virus weren’t nearly as harsh as he’d expected. Still, he needed to get this done.
They’d had a good evening, although Shylah had cooked up another really foul-tasting ration before they went back to sleep. Thinking about it, even that had made him laugh. Now, in the light of day, they were making their way through miles of forest back to the village the MSS were using as cover.
It was drizzling, a long slide of silver falling through the canopy. He glanced back at her, looking through the tree branches. She looked beautiful, running along a particularly thick limb. She was sure-footed, moving fast, scanning ahead of her as well as below her. He saw her gaze move upward. He liked that. Most people would have assumed no one could possibly be above them. It was unlikely, but they could do it so that meant someone else might be able to as well.
He held up his fist and she froze, which meant she always kept him in her vision. She was giving him a million reasons to fall in love with her. When she stopped all motion, she went completely still, blending into the foliage around her. He knew exactly where she was, but it was difficult to see her. He sent her a small grin, just because she made him want to smile, and then he was all business again. They were back in MSS territory. The village the terrorist cell had taken over was just ahead, a quarter mile in from the river.
He’d stirred up a hornet’s nest the last time he’d been to the village. By killing the men in the infirmary as well as the commander, he’d signaled to them that he could walk into their homes and kill them at will. He’d taken out the majority of their guards. Worse, he’d turned the table on a boatload of those hunting him. Now, they were everywhere, moving through the forest in numbers, looking for any sign to track him. They seemed to be hunting in pairs, which made his job easier, but first, he had to figure out who had taken over as commander. That man would know if they had any more of the virus.
He waited for two MSS members to pass under the tree he was crouched in, and then he began to move forward again, toward the village. The sound of the barred eagle-owl had him glancing over his shoulder. The laughing hoot, very distinctive, was a perfect replica. They were funny-looking creatures with a soft whistle and a call that sounded like the bird was happy and calling out to make certain everyone knew it.
Shylah signaled to him that she would track and dispose of the two MSS members. I’ll hunt here while you go into the village and find out everything we need to know.
He’d made it clear he didn’t want her with him when he interrogated the new commander, but he hadn’t expected her to actively take on those hunting in the forest. She wasn’t asking his permission either. He wasn’t in charge. She’d made that clear more than once. Shylah was an independent thinker, was used to working alone. Whitney had shaped her into his torpedo, and she went after the enemy; she wouldn’t sit at home waiting for Draden to get back from his task.
Draden nodded. Not going to tell you to be careful, woman, but won’t be happy if you fuck up and one kills you.
Her soft laughter slipped intimately into his head, stroking his body like the touch of her fingers. He’d fallen under the spell of her fingers and now, to have that sensation in his mind was almost erotic.
No worries. I’ve got this, unless you’re worried about getting out of there with half their army on your tail. I’m not certain how many times I can pull you out of the river.
Very funny. Although true. He had nearly blown it. They wouldn’t be expecting him to return to their community, which gave him some advantages. Give me an hour. I should be able to find him, break him and get out of there. If they still have the virus, we’ll need to get it back. That’s more important than killing every one of them. It was, but he still intended to do as much damage to them as possible. And Shylah, once you breathe on them, they could get infected. You have to kill them.
I’m perfectly aware, Draden. She held up the mask and gloves he’d given her and then slipped them on.
He heard the resolve in her voice. She knew what they were dealing with. She had accepted her fate—that she would die from the virus. He hadn’t quite gotten there when it came to her. He was still determined to find a way to save her. He was counting on Trap
and Wyatt. Once on a task, they might spend hundreds of hours, with little food or drink, just working to find answers. Draden counted on his friends’ intense concentration and brilliant minds to come through for him.
Good hunting, sweetheart.
Same to you.
Then she was gone, fading into the trees. He crouched on the branch, wishing he had the time to track her, to see her in action, but he had to make certain to get any virus left out of the hands of the MSS. In his opinion, no one should have such a weapon, something that could wipe out the majority of the population of the world, but he couldn’t control everything. He could go after this group and he could point his fellow GhostWalkers in the direction of the three men who had deliberately created and then sold the virus, allowing the MSS to set it loose on innocent people.
Draden was forced to move slowly as the new commander had spread his men out, so that they walked along the forest floor in twos. A few checked out the trees overhead, but that was rare. As he approached the village, he was tempted several times to drop down and kill a couple of the enemy, but he couldn’t tip them off that he was anywhere close and about to infiltrate their stronghold.
From the branches of the closest ironwood trees and further camouflaged from view by the abundance of supplejack vines wrapped around and hanging from branches, Draden watched the flow of the village. It appeared, at first, as business as usual. There were people moving in the marketplace, but after a few minutes, it was evident to him that only men were out, and no one had taken the boats for market. The village traded and sold goods from their boats out on the river, rather than depending on others to come to them.
The men pacing back and forth seemed to be concentrated around the commander’s cabin. The man taking over had moved in and doubled his guards, thinking that would make him safe.
Once Draden understood the flow of the guards, their patterns and the way the rest of the village was moving, he leapt from the tree, landing on legs that acted like springs, an inheritance from the big cat genetics Whitney had given him. He donned the gloves and mask he’d found in the remote lab and remained still while he allowed his senses to give him the necessary information to begin his infiltration of the village.