Page 19 of Come Fill Me

He studied her for a long moment as though buying time to frame his answer. “I have no intention of trading you for anyone or anything, Liz. It’s you I wanted and sought all along.”

“What?”

His lips curled up in a wolfish smile. “Not for me, though I might have changed my mind on that.”

Alarm returned, mingled with too much wayward lust. “What?”

“I came for you because of my brother Jacob.” Zeke pressed his face into her hair and inhaled deeply. “He’s the only family I have left. Carreon’s men attacked him tonight. You’re going to heal him.”

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 façade 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.

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