Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1) (2 page)

“Dr. Winthrop? Please?” Her voice splintered. There’d been
too much death already. “You need to focus. You need to stand up. Now.”

No response.

“Help.” Faint at first, the plea from a few paces ahead grew
louder and louder with each panicked bark.

Propping Winthrop back into his seat, she scrambled forward,
waving away the thick smoke, deliberately avoiding looking at the two dead
soldiers on either side.

“My belt’s jammed.” The minute he saw her, Officer Pogue
threw himself forward, trying to tear out of the restraints. “I can’t get out.”
He kicked his boot toward something on the ground in front of him. “There’s my
knife. Cut me out.”

Seizing the knife with two hands, she hacked at the
restraint. “Stop struggling. I’ll get you out.”

“Faster,” he urged.

Then with a final slice, the fraying restraint gave way.
Pogue popped up on a roar. “Let’s go. The
fire’s
burning fast.”

“Wait. You have to help me with Dr. Winthrop. He can’t walk
on his own.”

“No time. He’ll never make it anyway.” Pogue turned away.

“No.” She sprung at him, sinking her nails into his shoulder.
She’d put up with his constant harassment because non-Council descendants stuck
together and because he was a decorated soldier with useful survival training.
She needed that expertise now. They all did. “I didn’t leave you. Take
Winthrop’s arm. Put him between us. We can make it.”

When he still didn’t move, she grew desperate. “Do it. Or
I’ll tell the Council you refused to help one of their own. Think your life
will be worth anything after that?”

Pogue’s jaw tightened and, for a terrible second, she thought
he might strike her, but then he was striding past her, knocking her thigh into
the bench, plowing his shoulder into Winthrop’s stomach, and hoisting him
upward into a fireman’s carry.

“Go,” he shouted.

Knowing he was right behind, she scrambled forward.

A moan came from the right.

She swiveled toward the sound, but Pogue’s big body rammed
into her, making her stumble. “No more. You’ll get us killed. Keep moving.”

“But—”

“Go. Or I’ll leave you and your precious Council admirer.”
Pogue barreled into her, shoving her hard.

“We can’t just leave the others here to die!”

Without another word, he slammed into her again, sending
Winthrop’s boots into her hip and her sprawling forward on a pained gasp.

“Move or I’ll run right over you.”

 
That cowardly bastard.
He’d begged her to save him, but refused to do the same for anyone else.

“Bella? Is that you? Bella, you’re almost there.” Davies’
terrified coaxing echoed from up ahead. “Come on.”

Hating herself, hating Pogue, Bella stumbled down the aisle.
The burn in her throat had become agony, breathing difficult. Pogue was hard on
her heels, ready to stampede over her in an instant. On either side, dark
smudges taunted her with the possibility of other sightless eyes.

“You made it.” Soft hands grabbed hold of her arm, guiding
her through a twisted hole in the wreckage she hadn’t even seen.

Bella’s knees hit the ground. Her head snapped up and she
sucked in dry, hot air. Two orange suns blazed high in the sky. All around her,
desolate rock and dust swirled in a tapestry of bleak browns and rust as far as
the eye could see. Even the sky was the color of dried blood. No hoped for
vegetation in sight.

The trip had been for naught.

Pogue jogged by her, an unconscious Winthrop still in his
hold. “Move away from the shuttle,” he roared. “It’s going to blow.”

Several soldiers followed. Apparently, Steve Meyers had been
wrong. This time the back of the shuttle had been the place to be. At least ten
of the military team still lived while everyone from the scientific team
besides her, Davies, and Dr. Winthrop had perished.

Her gaze locked with Davies’. They shuffled away from the
burning shuttle. “All those deaths for nothing.”

A loan tear tracked down her colleague’s soot-covered face.
“But we survived.”

An inhuman shriek rent the air.

Everyone froze. Eyes wide, the soldiers’ guns shot up,
pointing wildly at the rocky outcroppings where anything could be hiding.

The hair at Bella’s nape prickled.

Yes, they’d survived. But for how long?

Chapter Two

“You can’t just leave them here.” A woman’s furious voice
reached prisoner 673 through the rocky canyon. He froze. Cocked his head. Inhaled,
but scented nothing except the usual arid scent of dirt and dust.

After so many years alone, the sound of such loud squawking
was jarring. And that the voice was a woman’s? His cock twitched and rose,
taking notice. Eight years was a long time to go without. The last time the
droids had dropped a woman on Dragath25 was five years ago. 225’s pack had
gotten hold of her first. She’d lasted five minutes.

It was a good reminder. Fragile things didn’t last here. And
nothing, not even long overdue pussy, was worth risking his survival.

 
“You hear those
shrieks? They’re coming.” An equally enraged male’s voice boomed through the
canyon, thoughtfully telegraphing his precise location. “Our shuttle streaked
through the sky like a clear come-and-get-me invitation for the entire penal
population of murderers and psychopaths. We don’t have time to dick around. We
don’t have time for those who’ll only slow us down. We’re moving out.”

“You coward. I saved your life. The least you can do is try
and return the favor.”

673 cleared the canyon in time to see a bull of red-haired
soldier dressed in fatigues grab a far smaller woman in a torn grey uniform,
her boots dragging along the ground as he shook her hard.

 
673’s whole body went
tight. He didn’t like bullies. He dropped into a crouch. Instinct taking over
as he slunk forward, his gaze absorbing everything. The way the soldier bastard
favored his right side. The large firearm strapped to his holster. The second
weapon at the man’s back. The way the woman’s ripped uniform clung to her curvy
body and the outraged rigidity of her spine even up against a man twice her
size. The nine other thick-necked, smug soldiers with similar military-issued
buzz cuts standing close by, no clue of the danger he represented, their sole
attention on the woman.

In the next instant, the woman dropped into the dirt. On a
perfect, heart-shaped ass.

Freezing in place, 673 waited to see what happened next.

“Fine,” the woman shouted, stumbling to her feet. “Go. But
I’m not leaving. We’ll find a way.”

“Your funeral.” Soldier bastard grabbed a pack off the
ground. He slung it onto his shoulder next to a similar one.

“At least leave us one.” She surged forward, grabbing for the
pack, but soldier bastard darted out of reach.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Cadet West? In fact,
seems like you and your Council-friends might need us after all.” Soldier
bastard patted the pack. “These were issued to the military crew, and you know
how strict Command Council is about ensuring resources are relegated to the
proper department. You survive the night, I’ll be ready to hear just what
you’re willing to do to get an unsanctioned taste.” With a final leer in her
direction, soldier bastard kicked it into a jog. “Let’s go, men.”

An odd frisson of uncertainty snaked through 673. He wanted
those weapons. Wanted what was in those packs. But he’d come for a different
reason entirely, and with the seven soldiers out of the way, the few left would
be easy pickings.

It was a curious thing: choice. For so long, there had been
only the option to survive. He didn’t like having alternatives. It almost made
him feel human again.

“West, please,” a dark-haired female in a similar grey
uniform limped over to where the other woman stood, the quality of her boots
marking her as Council even without his ability to see the CC designation on
her skin, “go with them. You’ve done so much for us already. Why should you die,
too?”

He’d already noted this second female and the wounded Council
officer on the ground and dismissed them as any kind of threat. Fact was, like
fighter girl, they were dead folks walking—because, in this case, soldier
bastard was right. The strong barely survived out here. The injured didn’t have
a chance in hell.

His fighter girl didn’t seem to care, though.
His?
No, she wasn’t his. She wasn’t
anything but Dragath25 dirt in the making.

He’d learned long ago not to stick his neck out for anyone
else. Keeping himself alive was hard enough.

Just beyond, the wind picked up, brushing against 673’s skin,
signaling the start of another dust storm. Within the half hour, this place
would be choked in dirt and debris, everything within suffocated under an
indifferent cloak of dirt and rock.

“I’m not leaving you.” Fighter girl stumbled forward, her
wavy, soot-colored hair brushing her ass…so easy to grab and wrap around his
wrist. “Let’s find something I can drag Dr. Winthrop in.”

She turned in his direction, giving him his first full view
of wide green eyes, a lush pink mouth, and firm, high tits full enough to fit
his hands.

His body rioted to attention, the man he’d once been waking
with a silent roar as white-hot lust flooded his veins. He jerked to standing,
all subterfuge, all caution, forgotten. The absence of touch for eight long
years a sudden agonizing stab of need across his skin.

“Look!” She pointed near to where he stood, and for a heart-stopping
moment, he was sure he’d been sighted. But then she turned back to her friend.
“There’s something that looks like a cave only a little ways up. If we can make
it there, we can hide.”

“But—”

“No but. We are making it there.” She dropped to her knees
beside the wounded officer’s body. “No one else is dying. Headquarters will
send search and rescue to investigate the crash. We only have to stay alive
until then.”

The shrieking cry of 225’s pack sounded again. Closing in
fast.

The reminder cooled 673’s lust enough to get him thinking
again.

His gaze flickered between the woman, now frantically working
with her friend to wrap the man in some kind of fabric, and the strewn, burning
wreckage that littered the ground. His hands clenched and unclenched.

Choices.

His dick was telling him one thing. His mind another.
Shit.
He really hated choices.

He started forward.

*****

“Wedge the cloth under his side.” Bella dug her fingers
beneath Winthrop’s back and fumbled for the other side of the shirt. They’d
found it flapping on a piece of wreckage. She didn’t even want to think about
where it had come from. “I’ve almost got it.”

Another one of those horrifying shrieks shook the air. Louder
than before. Her heart slammed into her throat. The wind seemed to be picking up
as well. Larger and larger pieces of rock and dirt pinged against her skin.
This place was even more inhospitable than Earth during its frequent dust
storms.

“Just a little more,” she urged. “I—”

“Oh, shit.” Davies’ panicked curse had Bella’s head jerking
up.

She promptly fell on her ass. Her mouth opening in a silent
scream as terror strangled in her throat. The rock was alive and swaggering
toward them, a rust-colored mammoth monstrosity that swirled dust and danger in
its wake.

She blinked again, and the rock became a man. A massive,
sculpted, dark-haired man. One wearing little more than a loincloth and boots,
every inch of his muscled skin and face caked in mud the same reddish color as
the rocks. Threat emanated from every pore.

The planet’s inmates had found them
.

She scrambled backwards on her ass, Davies right beside her.
The man was at least a head taller and several inches thicker than Pogue, the
biggest and strongest of the soldiers on their mission. The urge to jump and
run pumped through every sinew, but Davies couldn’t. Her colleague’s leg
wouldn’t hold her more than a few steps.

Eyes locked on the approaching threat, Bella’s fingers
scraped the dirt behind, scrounging frantically for some kind of weapon. A
rock. A piece of wreckage. Anything that might slow him down as his shadow fell
over her and his wide shoulders blotted out the suns.

He stopped inches from her boots. She looked up and up and up
into hooded dark eyes. Empty, cold, they raked down her body. Horrific stories
of crimes committed by Dragath25 prisoners clawed through her mind. Her fingers
clenched the dirt, ready to fling. It wasn’t much, but she wasn’t going down
without a fight.

Then he stepped past, his laser-like gaze finding a new
target in the twisted metal behind her.

Her gaze swung to Davies’.

The same mix of panic and confusion was clear on her fellow
trainee’s face.
What the hell?
she
mouthed.

Bella shrugged. Who knew? But she didn’t intend to miss an
opportunity.

Neither made a sound as Bella shifted under Davies and
carefully, quietly, lifted her to standing. As she moved, Bella monitored mud
man, who was even now picking through the rubble with purposeful intent. Did he
intend to rape and kill them after? Was he hoping they’d run so he’d give
chase? She had absolutely no idea, but a single glance at his muscled back,
sculpted arms, and solid thighs rammed home that he could easily do whatever he
wanted if he got hold of her. She didn’t intend to give him that chance.

“Start hopping toward those rocks. Nice and quiet.” She
whispered the words in Davies’ ear as she walked them both backwards. She could
only pray there weren’t more like mud man right behind.

Her colleague shook her head. “I’m not deserting you again.”

Bella cut her off. “I’m coming, too. But if he suddenly turns
around and comes after us, I’ll split off. Give him something to chase. Get to
any cave you can. I’ll find you there.”

Another eerie shriek split the air, ending their discussion.
The terrible cry was joined by another. And another.

Davies’ hand clenched round Bella’s shoulder. Goosebumps rose
on her flesh. The feral sound was like nothing she’d ever heard.

Was it her imagination or did mud man start moving faster? He
never looked up, simply strode through the wreckage, tossing pieces left and
right, stepping over the dead without even a hesitation.

Taking the hint, she moved faster as well, the increased
distance from their unwelcome visitor giving her a bit more confidence. The
shrieks seemed to have ended her colleague’s resistance, too. Davies wobbled
backwards, almost dragging Bella, the wind battering them as debris from the
growing storm dug into their flesh.

Bella’s gaze flickered to Winthrop now covered in a fine film
of dirt. Despite the ominous wind, he remained unmoving on the ground, the
erratic rise and fall of his chest the only proof he still lived.

A sense of helpless fury shot through her. He was going to
die—horribly, by the sound of whatever was heading their way—and she couldn’t
think of how to save him. She was barely certain she and Davies were going to
come out of this alive.

“We have no choice.” Davies’ gaze was also locked on their
boss.

“I know.”

They were almost to the rocks when mud man gave a grunt,
yanked something from the wreckage, and tucked it into a pack slung across his
back. He swiveled back around, his gaze landing unerringly on them.

Bella’s breath caught. Her legs turning to water.

He jogged toward them while she pulled Davies along. Her
colleague chanted
oh no, oh no, oh no,
and Bella’s heart pounded against her ribs and she wanted to scream to the sky
with outrage and—

He passed by them so close she felt the heat of his big body
brush against her shoulder. Then she was looking at his back as muscles rippled
and he heaved himself up the rock face like some kind of flipping mountain
goat, leaving them behind sucking in dirt.

“Wait!” The word popped out before she fully thought it
through.

“Bella, no,” hissed Davies.

But it was too late. As if Bella’s words were law, mud man
froze on the ledge above.

She took a deep breath. “Help us. Please.”

He didn’t move.

“We won’t make it otherwise.” The truth tasted bitter in the
back of her throat.

“Bella, don’t—”

“Please.” Bella pleaded, ignoring Davies. She thought of her
sister and brother. Of how quickly they’d be removed from Council protection if
she didn’t make it back to Earth. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll
only help us.”

He landed in a crouch at her boots.

Every frantic heartbeat felt like a hundred years as he
unfolded to standing, at least a full head and a half taller, his breath a warm
puff against her forehead. So close she could see the bump where his nose had
been broken. So close she could see long, thick lashes and the rim of deep,
dark blue that gave his eyes their inky black color. So close she could see the
sharp blades of jaw and cheekbones that produced his fearsome scowl.

She took a protective step back.

Rough hands encircled her forearms, checking her in place. “Anything?”
His voice was a low, rusty rumble.

Bella dug deep for courage, her gaze locking with bottomless
black. “Anything.”