The Scarlet Empress (12 page)

She waited where her legs could find purchase and give her leverage to strike. Only the Rim Rider didn’t pop up
for air. Wind rippled the billowing steam. A few birds warbled. Where was he? What the hell had happened to him?

She blinked mist out of her eyes. If he’d surfaced, she’d have seen it. It meant he was still under the water. After all this time? What was he . . . superhuman? No one could hold his breath for this long.

There! A shadow moved under the water. Long and dark, it glided beneath the surface. Cam almost swallowed her heart.

Powerful arms propelled the bounty hunter through the water as easily as a fish. As he stopped to search the boulders along the rim of the pool, his long black hair fanned out, undulating with his movements. He pushed off again, his stomach flexing. A set of six-pack abs warned her that he’d be no easy man to escape. All the more reason to cork him on the first try. A head start was going to be very important in this match.

She readied her rock for striking.
Closer, sugar, come a little closer to me.
The second his head came above water, she’d whack it like a coconut and run like hell.

If
his head came above water. What was that in his mouth? It looked like a thin harmonica except for the fizzy stream of bubbles exploding from it in regular intervals, the approximate space of time between breaths in a normal human being. He was breathing—underwater, and without bulky scuba gear!

Now, that wasn’t fightin’ fair. With his ability to stay underwater indefinitely, she’d have to alter tactics. Instead of surprising him as he surfaced, which, of course, he wouldn’t, she’d wait until he swam to the other side of the springs; then she’d scramble to shore.

Cam focused intently on her target. She considered herself expert at anticipating an adversary’s reaction. It was why she’d won nearly every air-to-air battle she’d ever flown. Could a water-to-water battle be that much different?

With a hearty inhalation and a prayer, she pushed quietly out of her hiding place and launched herself through deeper water to an outcropping of boulders, a good intermediate hiding spot from which she could reach the beach.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four strokes underwater, followed by a long, silent glide, she surfaced inside the ring of boulders. Mistake. Here the angle of the sun made it difficult to see more than a couple of feet below the surface. She was trapped. If she struck out for shore, she’d be doing it blind. Where did the Rider go?

Adrenaline zipped though her veins, pumping up her heart rate. He was coming for her; she knew it on a gut level. Almost as if she’d conjured him, the Rider exploded out of the water with a loud splash and grabbed her by the wrists.

Cam used his hold on her as a brace. She thrust her knee upward, making solid, satisfying contact with wet pants.

A muffled grunt. His grip relaxed—to his credit, it was for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. She yanked one dripping-wet wrist free, arched sideways, and tore the mouthpiece from the startled Rider’s mouth.

She clamped her lips around the breathing device. “Fair’s fair,” she mumbled.

A heartbeat later she was swimming through the depths of the spring for all she was worth. Her lips formed
a seal around the harmonica-shaped gadget just as lightheadedness set in.
This had better work.
She sucked in a breath—of air, not water. She was breathing! With no air tanks. No gear. She had no clue how the thing worked in a world that was supposedly devoid of technology, but there was no time to wonder about it now. She’d head for the far shore, jump onto dry land, and run like—

Something yanked her backward. The mouthpiece popped loose. She made a bubbly, underwater sound of dismay, her hair floating around her face, and shoved the breathing device back between her teeth. Twisting, she saw the problem.

Her eyes widened. The device was connected to the bounty hunter by an almost invisible cord. And as fast as his arms could propel him, he was swimming through the water after it—
and her
.

Options . . . she needed them now. Tug-of-war was out. She could drop the mouthpiece and run. Or . . . she could tangle the rope around the hulk of a submerged tree stump rising out of the sandy bottom to buy time enough for a head start.

Her insides screamed to hurry. She wrapped the slack in the cord around the massive roots, two, three times—and a couple more for good measure. Then, wedging one end of the breather under a root, she snapped the fragile device in half and shoved away.

The Rim Rider swam after her—only to be jerked to a halt. He saw then what she’d done, how the rope was knotted and tangled around the gnarled wood. A hiss of bubbles swirled around him as he fought to free himself. Jerky movements further revealed his shock.

You underestimated me. Big mistake.

Cam burst to the surface, treading water. The man’s companion wasn’t anywhere she could see. She stroked to the shore. No more grace. No more speed. On dry land she moved like an arthritic elephant.

How much of a head start did she have on the Rim Rider? The water steamed quietly. No sign of him yet.

She stumbled over the boulders bordering the shore. Once she was outside in wet clothes, it didn’t take long to start shivering. If she was going to hide, she’d better do it somewhere warm and dry—and fast.

Lose the Rim Rider first,
she thought. Had he made it to the beach yet? She turned around. He hadn’t even made it to the surface.

Lord Almighty.
Was he still tangled in the rope?
Serves him right.
The surface of the water was unblemished. Calm.

Don’t fear me.
The memory of his attempted dialogue came with a flicker of self-reproach. Tying him up had been impulsive, spurred by battle lust and, yes, sheer competition.
You’ve been held here illegally. I have come to rescue you! No tricks.

In retrospect, the Rider had acted more like a cop on the beat that the evil minion Zhurihe said he’d be. Cam thought of the breather and the aircraft. Zhurihe had told her there was no tech left in this nuclear war–ravaged world. What if she’d lied?

What if she’d lied about the Rim Riders, too?

What if the Rider was right and these farmers were the kidnappers?

What if the idiot was drowning?

Cam made a loud groan and reversed course, swearing under her breath the entire way back to the springs. She
slipped and slid in her waterlogged shoes, shoving branches and evergreen vegetation out of her path. Okay, if the hulk was already unconscious, all she’d have to do was cut him loose and shove his carcass to the surface.

CPR?
Don’t even go there.
If her luck held, he’d start breathing on his own once she draped him over the closest rock.

She dove into the hot depths, swimming down, down, down, until she reached the ancient mangle of the stump.
Simple: cut him loose and run.

There was the cord. She grabbed it. Attached to the other end was an undulating banner of black fabric. The Rider’s pants!

Bubbles gurgled out of her mouth. He was gone! He’d cut himself free like a wolf that gnawed off a paw to escape a trap.

She spun around, her hair swirling across her eyes. Looked up. Looked down. He was nowhere. And she was running out of air.

Up to the surface she went. As if competing for Olympic gold, she stroked away from the center of the springs, pushing her body to the limit in her half-panicked haste to get away. He hadn’t underestimated her—
she’d
underestimated him! She’d made the same miscalculation that others had about her all her life. And now it was painfully obvious she was about to pay for her mistake.

Water sprayed over her face as something lunged at her. Blindly she struck out with a fist and made contact with something wet and very solid. Thick arms closed around her waist, forcing her half out of the water. The Rim Rider.

They wrestled, splashing violently. He had the advantage of size. From behind, he hauled her close. It was then she remembered a very important fact: he was buck naked.

Her elbows drove backward into his ribs. This time, however, he had the advantage of surprise. Powerful legs kept them both afloat as he bent her right arm behind her until he’d drawn out a shuddering swear word.

Rim Riders were bounty hunters for the warlord emperor. By definition, bounty hunters turned in fugitives for pay. If they planned on delivering her to the emperor for payment, it meant they probably wouldn’t kill her. On the other hand, far from anyone’s scrutiny in the wilderness, these men could do a lot of things between now and their delivery date. “Try anything with me, and I’ll fight you,” she gurgled, water sloshing over her mouth. “I’ll fight you until all you’ve got left to play with is a body that’s not worth the effort.”

“Don’t waste your breath on the absurd!” His sharp indignation at her fear of assault left her almost embarrassed for having brought it up. “Now, will you cease your wrestling?” he asked, and gave her arm a push.

She wondered how many additional versions of “screw you” she could transmit with her eyes.

He jerked on her bent arm. Cam’s mouth drew back in a grimace. She didn’t like losing, and she’d capitulated too few times in her life to be any good at it.

“Well?” The pressure increased another notch.

Pain shot into her neck. “Give,” she choked out.

Gasping, they treaded water, their legs colliding. His skin somehow felt hotter than the water. She wanted to swim away, to put distance between the Rim rider and her
unnerving awareness of him, but not at the expense of an arm.

“Relax, then,” he ordered, his body pressed close.

“I
am
fucking relaxed!”

He laughed—deep, masculine, and heartily condescending.

She kicked him in the shins with her heels. He flipped her in front of him, keeping her arm in a vise behind her back. His foot shoved hers away before she had the chance to crush his balls with her knee. This minion was expert in unarmed combat, much more than she. It was like salt in the wound after how neatly he’d turned the tables on her.

Immobilized by the painful armlock, she gritted her teeth, struggling to fill her lungs with air. The fight had taken most of her strength. “Okay . . .” She relaxed only enough to convince him to relieve the pressure on her arm.

He waited before loosening his grip this time, making sure she got the message. “Are you quite over yourself yet?”

Asshole.
She glowered darkly at him. His face was inches away from hers, giving her a close-up view of the design etched into his golden skin, miniature snakes intertwined until she couldn’t tell where one began and another ended.

“You look as if you are plotting my demise,” he drawled.

“Actually, I’m just trying to imagine you with a personality.”

Irritably, he pushed her along toward shore. As they transitioned from swimming to sloshing toward the
beach, the water sank lower and lower on his torso until he emerged sleek, hard-muscled, and completely, utterly unself-conscious about his lack of clothing.

Well, he did have one small strip of something covering his privates, a scrap of black underwear with a small blade strapped to the hip, but it didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. He was a big, solid man in top physical form. He didn’t go hungry too often; that was obvious. The emperor took good care of his minions.

The other Rim Rider thundered down the road on a stallion, black and equally magnificent as the one galloping behind him. “Kublai!” the newcomer called out.

Her captor’s name was Kublai? As in Khan? The bounty hunter was named after Genghis-the-infamousbarbarian’s grandson.
Oh, boy.

The Rider tossed Kublai a towel. Turning his back to her, Kublai pressed it to his face. Steam rose from his bare shoulders and hair. His broad back steamed, too, the muscles working as he wiped himself dry.

A cold wind blew down from the mountains. Now that death wasn’t imminent and she was out of the warm water, Cam started shivering. It was not going to be a good night; she could tell by the groans and creaks settling into her bones, and the trembling in her overworked muscles. “D-do I get a towel, or do I have to w-wait for sloppy seconds?”

Kublai swiped the towel over his chest one last time and threw it at her. “Sloppy seconds.”

He stalked away without seeming to give a hoot that he’d left her staring after him. “Throw her some clothing, Nazeem, before she freezes to death.”

“Maybe that w-would be more c-c-convenient for you,
Rim Rider. Then you won’t have to worry about bringing me anywhere.”

He scoffed at her offer. “The emperor demands that you be brought to him. No more, no less. And that, pretty one, is what I intend to do.” He turned his back to her to dress in rugged midnight-black riding gear.

Nazeem handed her a coat, shirt, pants, boots, and long underwear. “Change,” he said.

She started walking back to the farmhouse. “No,” Kublai ordered. “You will dress here.”

She was about to tell them they were dreaming when both men turned their backs. It was too damn cold to argue. Besides, having grown up surrounded by brothers, she was used to changing with men around.

She stripped off the sodden peasant wear. A few pieces of soggy hay fell on the ground. She hoped they didn’t have hay where the men were taking her. Or goats.

The full-body underwear the men had provided turned warm even before she’d pulled it completely on. It was too good to be true. The heat reached deep into her aching bones and stopped her shivers. “Stupid question, but are these clothes supposed to get hot?”

“Once the nanofabric regulates your body temperature, it won’t be quite so warm,” Kublai said over his shoulder. A small clasp now held the front portion of his wet hair away from his forehead, keeping it off his face. The rest swung over his broad shoulders, glossy and black. The man had hair that was not only nicer and thicker than hers, but longer, too.

“Nanofabric. As in tiny computers?” She’d heard the term
nano
before, but that was back in the days of technology.