Amanda Ashley (26 page)

He looked up when she stepped into the room. The look in his eyes, the guilt, stabbed her to the heart.

I'm sorry, natayah,
he said, speaking to her mind.
Forgive me.

“Sorry there's no champagne and soft music,” Barrett said. He took Kara by the arm and pulled her toward the bed. “But this is the best I could do on such short notice.”

Kara jerked her arm from Barrett's grasp. “You're despicable. I can't believe you're a doctor.” She shook her head. “Have you no conscience? You're supposed to help people, ease their suffering.”

“My dear, if I can isolate the healing agent in this creature's blood, mankind will owe me a debt it can never repay.”

“And you think the end”—Kara gestured at Alex, at the chains that bound him—“justifies the means?”

“Sometimes, in order to make advancements, people get hurt. History is filled with stories of people who sacrificed their lives for the good of others.”

“The good of the many outweighing the needs of the few,” Kara muttered, remembering a line from an old
Star Trek
movie.

“Exactly. And now I will bid you good night.” Barrett fixed the alien with a sharp stare. “Don't fail me,” he warned, and left the room.

There was the sound of a key turning in the lock. The lights in the room dimmed.

Kara went to kneel in front of Alexander. “Are you all right?” She touched the heavy collar at his throat as if it were a live snake. “How can you breathe with that thing on?”

“Breathing is the least of my worries,” Alex replied wryly. Bending over, he lifted Kara onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close until their hearts beat as one.

“Alex, what are we going to do?”

“Get the hell out of here.”

“How?”

“I'm going to try to spring the lock on these chains. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to kill Barrett when he comes back.”

Kara blinked at him. “Spring the lock? Can you do that?”

“I hope so. It was cloudy today, not much sun. I slept all afternoon. With any luck, by midnight my strength will have returned enough so I can spring the locks telepathically.”

“I love you, Alex. Whatever happens, I love you. You won't forget that, will you?”

He cupped her face in his hands. “I won't forget.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, traced the curves of her face with his fingertips. Soft, so soft. She wore a plain white hospital gown; her hair fell over her shoulders, shimmering like a living flame in the faint light. She had never looked more beautiful.

Leaning forward, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her gently. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down on the bed and show her how much he loved her, but now was not the time. He needed to save his strength, and so he stretched out on the bed, drawing her down beside him, wrapping his body protectively around hers.

“I need to sleep, Kara. Wake me if you hear anyone coming.”

She nodded. Needing to touch him, she brushed his hair back from his face, then stroked his shoulder, hoping to soothe him, to help him relax.

He watched her for a long while, his eyes heavy-lidded, and then, holding her hand in his, he closed his eyes and slept.

Kara lay there in the semi-darkness, watching him sleep, her heart hurting for the pain he had suffered. He was such a brave man. He had said he would kill Barrett if they couldn't escape. He had said it so casually, his voice indifferent, as if killing was of no import at all. As repulsive as the thought was, it was far more acceptable than the alternative of bearing a child and having Barrett take it from her, of being disposed of when she was no longer needed. More acceptable than never seeing Alex again.

She gazed up at the narrow patch of sky visible through the skylight, watching the stars as they followed their inevitable course. Which star was Alexander's? She tried to imagine what it had been like for him, being banished to an alien planet, being sent away from everything he knew and loved. It pleased her to think that he had been fated to be hers, that some higher power out in the cosmos had sent Alex to earth because he had been meant to be hers, as she was meant to be his.

“You're quite a romantic, Miss Crawford.”

“Are you reading my mind again, Mr. Claybourne?”

“Guilty as charged.” Alex opened his eyes and smiled at Kara. “Is that what you really think? That I was sent here because we were fated to be together?”

“It sounds kind of silly when you say it out loud.”

“I don't think it sounds silly at all.”

His hand cupped the back of her head and he drew her gently toward him. His kiss was featherlight, yet it singed every fiber of her being.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Pretty good.” He glanced up at the sky. “It's a little after midnight.” He smiled at her. “Give me a kiss for luck?”

“Two kisses,” she said, and pressed her lips to his—a long, lingering kiss that spoke of passion; a short, quick kiss that promised more to come.

Sitting up, Alex swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Kara sat beside him, her heartbeat quickening. “What should I do?”

“Nothing. Try to keep your mind blank while I concentrate.”

“Maybe I could help?”

He shook his head. “I'm afraid the energy from your mind would be too distracting.”

“All right.”

He took a deep breath, let it out in a long, slow sigh.

Kara watched his face, knew that he had shut her out of his thoughts, out of his mind. She could almost see the power gathering around him, coalescing, vibrating, as he focused every ounce of his energy on the heavy padlock that held the iron cuff in place on his left ankle.

Kara shook her head, a little frightened by the intense expression on his face. The veins in his neck bulged, the muscles in his jaw tensed, the knuckles on his fists were white and strained.

What kind of man was he? The thought skittered through her mind before she could call it back, but he seemed unaware. His expression never changed. And then, after what seemed like hours, his eyes narrowed. There was the sound of metal turning against metal. Alex bent down and opened the padlock, then removed the shackle and chain from around his ankle.

She stared at him in awe, wondering how he could remove the collar from his neck when he couldn't focus his eyes on the lock.

But, of course, he focused on the padlock that fastened the end of the chain to the bed. Moments later, he was free.

Rising, he coiled the length of chain dangling from the collar around his left hand. “Let's go.”

Stark naked, with a thick collar at his throat, his long black hair framing his face, he looked like a pagan god of war.

He stared at the door; a moment later, it swung open. Alex peered up and down the hallway, then stepped into the corridor.

Kara followed him, watched as he closed and locked the door. “Stay close behind me,” he warned softly.

He didn't have to tell her twice. She planned to stick closer than his shadow.

Their footsteps seemed as loud as thunder to her ears as they tiptoed down the hallway. They passed three rooms with the doors ajar, small cubicles similar to the one that had imprisoned Alex. A fourth room contained numerous cages filled with rats and mice. She wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of ammonia and disinfectant.

Two corridors opened at the end of the one they had taken. Alex glanced left, then right, then turned left, his steps sure as he glided soundlessly over the black-and-white tiled floor.

Needing the assurance of his touch, Kara reached for his hand. He glanced at her briefly, his teeth gleaming whitely in the dim light of the hallway.

Kara froze at the sound of voices. Familiar voices. Kelsey and Handeland.

“Full house,” she heard Handeland say. “Three pretty ladies and a pair of fours.”

Kelsey swore. “That's four hands in a row,” he complained.

“What can I say? I've always been lucky.”

There was the sound of cards being shuffled.

Kara looked up at Alex.
What now?

Wait here.
He smiled reassuringly, then moved down the hallway. He paused outside an open door and peered cautiously inside. Kelsey had his back
to the door; Handeland was studying his cards. Their weapons lay on the table. There was no sign of Barrett.

There was no way to sneak past them without being seen. For a moment, he considered backtracking in search of another exit, but there was not time for that. There was always a chance that Barrett would go to the room to check on them. Or he could show up here at any moment.

Hoping the element of surprise would give him the edge he needed, Alex burst into the room.

“What the . . . ?” Handeland dropped his cards, reached for his gun, and fired.

The bullet struck Alex in the arm.

Kelsey swung around in his chair, his eyes widening as Alex struck him across the jaw. The chain wrapped around Alex's fist made an ugly squishing sound as it tore into flesh. With a strangled cry, Kelsey slipped to the floor, blood gushing from his face and mouth.

Still moving, Alex flung Kelsey's chair aside and reached for Handeland. There was an explosion as Handeland pulled the trigger. Alex staggered back, then lurched forward, one hand locking around Handeland's throat, squeezing, squeezing, until the man's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

Moving quickly, Alex went through Handeland's pockets until he found the key to the collar. Clutching it in one hand, he grabbed Handeland's gun, then hurried out to Kara.

Her eyes widened and all the color drained from her face when she saw the blood dripping down his arm, flowing from his shoulder.

“Come on,” Alex said urgently. “We don't have much time.”

Kara stared at him, unable to move, unable to speak.

“Don't faint on me, Kara,” Alex said. “We've got to go. Now. And I don't think I can carry you.”

She nodded. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she followed him down the dimly lit hallway. A door loomed in front of them. She was surprised to find it unlocked.

She glanced at her hospital gown, at Alex's nakedness, at the chain dangling from the collar around his neck, at the blood oozing from the wounds in his arm and shoulder, and none of it seemed real.

Outside, the street was dark and quiet. A full moon hung low in the sky. For the first time, she got a glimpse of the building that had imprisoned them. It was a small square structure built of faded red brick. All the windows were barred; two were boarded up. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned store of some kind.

Like a robot, she followed Alex down the street. They passed a vacant lot, a couple of ramshackle houses, a grocery store that had bars on the door and the windows.

She stood to one side while Alex tried to unlock the door of a battered Chevy pickup. She heard him swear softly as his power failed him. A moment later, there was the tell-tale tinkle of breaking glass; then he reached through the window and unlocked the door. She slid across the seat to the passenger side. The cracked leather was cold and rough against the back of her legs.

“Here, hold this,” Alex said. He thrust a large
brass key into her hand, tossed the gun on the seat.

She heard him groan softly, heard the rattle of the chain, as he reached under the dash to hot wire the car. Moments later, the engine coughed to life. He didn't turn the lights on until they were well away from the lab.

In a haze, she watched the faint white line in the center of the road. This was a nightmare. That was the only explanation. In a few minutes, she'd wake to the sound of Nana's voice scolding her for sleeping so late, then Gail would come running in, begging to go to a movie with Cherise, or to McDonald's for dinner when Kara got home from work. Ordinary things. Everyday things . . .

They passed a small wooden sign.

LEAVING SILVERDALE
, it read.
DRIVE SAFELY
.

Silverdale. She had no idea where it was.

After a time, she became aware that the truck was slowing down. She glanced at Alex, felt the pain of his wounds as if they were her own, and knew he was on the verge of losing consciousness.

A moment later, she grabbed the wheel as he slumped toward her.

Kara pulled the truck off the road. Putting the gear shift in park, she slipped out of her gown, wondering how she'd turn the engine off without the key. Tearing the flimsy garment into strips, she bandaged Alex's arm, then made a thick pad and pressed it over the wound in his shoulder, tying it in place with another strip of cloth. That done, she removed the heavy collar and chain from his neck and tossed them out the window.

She felt Alex's forehead, wondering if it felt hotter than usual. Fumbling on the dash, she turned on the heater, then put the truck in gear and pulled onto the narrow two-lane road once more. She drove with no destination in mind. She didn't know where they were, didn't know where to go for help. She couldn't go home, even if she knew which direction to go, couldn't check Alex into a hospital
even if she could find one. The road was deserted. Not so much as a gas station or a telephone.

She imagined pulling into a gas station and asking for help, grimacing as she pictured the reception they'd get.

She considered turning around. Maybe there was a town behind her. Maybe she should try and find a cop. Too bad she didn't know where to find a donut shop, or a police station. She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat as she pictured herself walking into some small-town precinct, stark naked, and telling them that she had escaped from a mad doctor who wanted to get rich selling alien blood to wealthy sick people.

She tried to rouse Alex, but he was unconscious. Or dead.

No! She put her hand over his heart, relieved by the faint but steady rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, thank God. Not knowing where else to turn, she murmured a prayer, begging for help, for a place to hide until Alex was better. She was hungry and tired and afraid, so afraid.