Page 28 of Come Fill Me

Shivering at the thought, she noticed a young womanstanding to the side. The girl watched Zeke, her mouth tense with worry. No more than mid-twenties, she wore her straight black hair loose, the ends grazing her waist. Her eyes were equally dark, suiting her tawny complexion. A supermodel couldn’t have looked better than she did in her white tee, jeans, and moccasins, her tall, slender figure as lovely as the rest of her.

Who was she?

Biting her lower lip, the young woman waited as more men came around to the back of the van, their black clothing and weapons similar to what Liz had seen on the two guys who’d arrived with her and Zeke.

“Where’s Bartholomew?” he asked the others.

A tall guy in the back spoke up. “Carreon’s men trapped him. He signaled for us to leave…that he’d take care of matters.”

Undisguised grief flooded Zeke’s face.

Why? Because he knew Carreon would torture the man for information, or because Bartholomew would never allow that to happen, sacrificing his own life first?

One of the brawnier men rested his hand on Zeke’s shoulder in a consoling gesture. The girl bounced in place as an impatient child might then stopped when she noticed Liz. Hatred blazed in her eyes.

“Kele,” Zeke said.

She went to him, slipping her arms around his neck with a familiarity that Liz found more disturbing than the girl’s previous hostility.

Who in the hell was she? A wife? Girlfriend? One of Zeke’s lovers who wasn’t happy about having to share her man with an enemy woman?

Whoa. What are you thinking?

Liz made a face. No way was she Zeke’s newest conquest or jealous of whatever he had going with this Kele person. If not for tonight’s events, Liz would never have met Zeke. She neverwould have known how deeply he could love, what it was like to lie within his arms.

How often did he and Kele make love? Did they want children, little ones to protect as he hadn’t been able to with his beloved Gabrielle?

“Is that her, Carreon’s lover?” Kele asked. The volume at which she spoke said she wanted Liz to hear. “How can you be so certain she’ll help Jacob?”

Zeke pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “She healed me.” Going to the van, he extended his hand to Liz.

She accepted his help without pause or comment. The sad truth was she couldn’t speak. His fingers curled around hers with such confidence and care, it awakened something deep within Liz. A longing for assurance. To be important to a man. Cherished. Her earlier thoughts of not being his newest conquest came back to mock her. Aware of the others watching, Liz fought her desire.

Kele wasn’t fooled. She pressed her lips together, her disdain seeming to have more to do with distrust than jealousy. Given her worry over Jacob, Liz wondered if they were a couple. Would she be inside the room, observing, when Liz healed him?

What if Jacob mounted her as Zeke had? Not because he was aroused but because he wanted to sink deep within her core, believing that would afford him the full extent of her healing power. What would Kele do then?

“This way,” Zeke said.

Liz followed him around the van, getting her first good look at the tunnel. It arched twenty or more feet above them, dwarfing everything within. The unearthly blue-white lights and gray walls went on forever behind them. On either side were vehicles, mostly Jeeps built for the desert terrain. One was parked haphazardly, bullet holes marring the back doors, nodoubt from Carreon’s men firing at it tonight.

Liz sniffed, expecting to smell the acrid bite of gunpowder, oil, and gas. The air was fresh and clean, cooler than it’d been in the van. Pumped in from the outside? Were generators the source of the constant whirr, providing power for this place?

Zeke stopped at a door that was wide enough for a tank to move through, constructed of the same material as the walls. Kele placed her palm on what seemed to be a control panel.

Was it reading her fingerprints?

A series of clicks sounded from within the door. It slid sideways, disappearing into the wall, allowing entrance into Zeke’s stronghold.

Liz gaped, unable to help herself. On either side of the hall, electric torches—the flameless kind one sees at summer barbeques—provided a soft, golden glow in contrast to the tunnel’s sterile light. Here, the walls were mahogany, the wood gleaming, the floor made of polished stone the color of strong coffee. Priceless Indian art and Comanche blankets, similar to the one she wore, decorated the space.

A circular buffalo totem caught her attention by its sheer size and magnificence. Nearly as tall as the door she’d just seen, the figures within it were more geometric than lifelike, the red, blue, and black colors intense. Past it were niches displaying rock and sand sculptures.

“Before you came here, did you sell this artwork outside your community?” she asked.

Zeke didn’t break stride. “We still do. We have agents working for us on the outside. The sales fund our needs, along with stocks.”

From behind, one of the men cleared his throat. Liz glanced over then stopped, not wanting to meet Kele’s glare. “Stocks?”

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