Page 6 of Come Fill Me

Just as quickly, his menace passed as though it had never happened. Amusement flooded his features. “That’s what I always liked about you, Liz. Your foolish spirit.”

“Don’t be so certain how foolish it is.” She spoke with the same airiness he had, matching the deadliness beneath it. “Remember, I’m the one with the healing gift, not you.”

Something akin to rage—or perhaps it was fear—flickered across the sculpted planes of his face. It didn’t register in his response. In that same calm, maddening tone, he said, “You’ll do what I say, or your father will die. Remember that, Liz, and how I’ve dealt with my enemies in the past.”

Revolted, she turned from him, recalling the rumors she’d heard. Until two years ago, Carreon’s father had been in charge. An ambush ended that while the man had been in bed with two of his mistresses. Bullets from assault rifles riddled all three bodies, tearing away parts of their heads and limbs. Although their hearts still beat for a time, the resulting injuries were soextensive only a miracle, not her or her father’s power, would have been able to repair them.

Some said Carreon had ordered the attack. A few claimed he was one of the assassins. As with the other parts of his past, Liz had learned about his father’s murder too late, along with all of his other lies.

With startling speed, she wondered if it were actually Neekoma she’d be healing tonight.

What if it wasn’t? How would she know? She’d heard of the man but had never seen him, had no idea how he looked or even a remote indication of his age. Like Carreon, Zeke Neekoma allowed no one to photograph him, preferring to keep a low profile that ensured the success of his attacks.

Leaving the city limits, the Escalade barreled through the desert in a northeasterly direction, toward White Sands, Alamogordo, Roswell. A route Liz knew well. Miles before all three locations was Carreon’s hidden estate.

Gusts swept past the Organ Mountains, feeding the giant blades of a wind farm’s generators before buffeting the vehicle. Liz clutched the leather seat, knowing what to expect during this ride. Within minutes, the SUV jounced as its tires finally left the pavement and hit an unimproved surface road carved through an especially barren area.

Nearly invisible during the day, at this hour the path kept the curious or foolish from exploring. Trenches and strategically placed rocks littered the perilous route. With each mile, the rocks grew in size, with some reaching the circumference and height of golf carts. Now fully night, threads of moonlight created ominous shadows, sparkling off cacti, the other scruffy vegetation, and patches of gray.

More rocks? Human bones?

Liz didn’t want to know.

Beneath the night’s gauzy light, some kind of creature—dark and unknown—skittered out of one trench then paused at another, perhaps waiting for them to pass, watching as they did.

Pebbles hit the Escalade’s undercarriage, their rat-a-tat-tat resembling gunfire. The driver negotiated another series of boulders, causing his occupants to jerk left then right. With the path unobstructed for the moment, he cleared his throat. Carreon yawned.

Liz stared. In the distance, a faint flash of gold peeked from between a series of cottonwood trees and tamarisk. Hidden from all but the most observant, invisible to those on the highways and surface roads, the illumination came from Carreon’s mansion.

Built hacienda style, the two-story structure boasted an abundance of muted decorative lights. They glistened against the blackened sky, trying to reach beyond the building’s perimeters to the unforgiving land.

Liz wondered in which of those fifty or so rooms Carreon had imprisoned her father. That was, if he was still there.

The Escalade reached a particularly rough path. Her shoulder smacked into Carreon’s. He didn’t react. At length, the ride smoothed out, the tires whistling over the stately drive. On either side, fir trees, squat palms, countless shrubs, and startling white flowers flanked the cinnamon-colored pavers. The mansion’s enormous brass doors shone beneath a set of amber lights housed in a fixture of southwestern design. Moths and other insects bobbed in the gentle glow.

They exited the vehicle. With his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, Carreon directed Liz past the mansion’s entrance and through the arched sections of the foyer, so dense with feathery vegetation it had the damp smell of the tropics. Wrought-iron chandeliers rained faint light on the gurgling fountain situated beneath a dome of Tiffany glass. Against the reddish walls, heavy Spanish furniture gleamed dully, theirbulky forms recorded on the polished Mexican paver floors.

Carreon pulled Liz to the stairway and took the steps two at a time, expecting her to keep up. Breathless, she tripped near the top, striking her ankle against the filigreed rail.

Shit, shit, shit.White-hot pain shot from the bone to her calf.

Carreon glared at her then looked past at the first floor, twenty feet below. His expression said he’d push her over the rail, making certain she died if she gave him any trouble.

Liz breathed sharply at the continuing pain. “If you kill me, there won’t be anyone to heal your men. No way will my father help you, especially if I’m dead.”

At her defiance, Carreon’s expression turned ugly. “And how would he know? Do you think I’d tell him?”

Liz’s body went hot then cold with fear. She pushed it back. “You wouldn’t have to. He’d see the truth on your face. You’re not as good a liar as you think you are.”

“Then I suppose it’s best I keep you alive.” He yanked Liz upward, ignoring her pained gasp, hurrying her to the landing.

Down the hall they went. Ivory wall sconces provided a gentle glow. Here, as in the foyer, hulking furniture and potted plants abounded, their green tint appearing even more delicate against the contrasting crimson walls.

Door after door marched up each side, all closed. Liz ignored each as they passed, too ashamed to recall the men who’d taken her in those rooms, the salty taste of their cocks sliding over her tongue, the pressure of their organs stretching her cunt and anus, the sting of their belts on her uplifted ass. Decadent games Carreon introduced. Ones Liz discovered she enjoyed, as long as she had Carreon’s love.

He honored it by betraying her. From the beginning, he and his men had lied about her father.

With an equal measure of fury and grief, Liz wondered if she’d get a chance to see her father tonight. Holding her breath,she hoped to hear him calling for her. That he sensed she was here.

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