Page 8 of Deep Within Me

Liz stared at him, not understanding. Previously, he’d asked if she’d fallen asleep. Now, he was claiming that she’d possibly passed out? When?

She recalled none of it. One moment they’d been escaping Carreon’s stronghold, the next the Jeep had stopped, and Liz had no idea why. She had no sense of losing time, not even a moment. As Zeke had driven them across the desert, Liz’s thoughts had been on her father. For some reason, she kept recalling the pain on his face when Zeke had helped him to his feet at the stronghold…how she’d fallen to her knees and laid her hands on his ankle, healing it.

Ordinary stuff for her in an extraordinary night. Including Zeke having looked at her so oddly earlier, panic clearly etched on his features.

“I didn’t pass out,” she insisted then cleared the catch in her throat. “I’m fine.” Rarely had she felt as alert or jittery, her pulse points pounding.

Zeke snuck a peek at the rearview mirror. To exchange a glance with her father? Neither of them commented. The vehicle rattled as it hit a particularly rough spot. Rocks pinged against the undercarriage. Wind whipped past.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Zeke said.

His baritone rumbled within the small confines of the Jeep, the sound deep, rich, soothing.

And a lie. Liz heard his uncertainty.

She flinched at the two-way radio’s static.

Slowing a bit so he could drive with one hand, Zeke lifted the device to his lips. “Jacob?”

“Where are you?” Pain and worry colored his brother’s words. “You should have been here by now.”

“We’re fine,” Zeke assured.

“Then what’s taking so long?”

“I want to make certain we’re not followed. We’ll be there in less than an hour. Is Isabel taking care of your leg?”

“She did what she could then left. So did the rest of the women.”

Zeke didn’t immediately comment. He took a turn in the road, glancing about as he did, then asked, “Left to go where?”

“To help the other men, I suppose. Some of them were probably hit like Samuel and me. I’m in my room.”

“Alone?”

“They told me to sleep. Actually, they more or less ordered me to do so.”

That didn’t make sense to Liz.

If Zeke thought the same, he didn’t show it. He depressed the radio’s button and asked, “You’re okay though?”

“Just some pain. The bleeding’s stopped.”

“Hang tight. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.” Zeke signed off and put his radio in the cup holder between the seats as though everything were all right.

Not even close. Something weird was going on back at his stronghold.

Liz recalled weeks ago when Zeke had first brought her there to heal Jacob, who’d been shot by Carreon’s men, those rounds having struck him in his calves and belly. Women of varying ages had kept a vigil outside his room. Among them had been Kele—young and so beautiful—her desire for Jacob, her love and concern for his recovery quite evident.

He’d been wounded again tonight, yet Kele wasn’t watching over him as she had in the past.

“What happened to Kele?” Liz asked then blurted, “Carreon’s men didn’t—”

“No. She wasn’t hit. The last I saw, she was taking care of Jacob.” He hesitated then added, “She fought Carreon’s men with us tonight.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No.”

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