Deep Within Me

Chapter One

Zeke Neekoma gripped the Jeep’s steering wheel. His eyes swept the barren New Mexico desert. At this hour, moonlight reduced colors to varying shades of gray and deepened the shadows cast by stunted vegetation and rocks. The perfect setting for a sci-fi film…or the endless battles and murders played out here.

Less than two weeks before, Zeke had been close to death from three bullets near his heart. Although no hospital emergency room or medical staff had seen to his rescue and recovery, his body recorded no lingering distress from the incident. The wounds were mere pinpricks on his chest, hardly noticeable, his pulse strong yet too fast, heightened by a continued flood of adrenaline.

Because of Liz—once his enemy, now the woman he adored.

She’d died. He’d seen it, had caressed her limp body, begging her not to leave him. And then…

The enormity of what had happened hit Zeke fully now. He tried to swallow and couldn’t quite manage the action. His throat was too dry, his palms so damp they kept slipping on the steering wheel. He rubbed one hand, then the other on his jeans and clutched the wheel as hard as he could for some measure of control. Didn’t work.

The events of the last few minutes precluded it, the memories assaulting him.

He recalled racing to Carreon’s stronghold, where Liz had gone to stop the man. Carreon was her clan’s leader and the worst sort of coward. He harmed women, children, anyone who was helpless against him. Liz had hoped the bastard’s death would end the bloodshed between her and Zeke’s clans.

How wrong she’d been to have confronted him. When Zeke arrived, Carreon was in his black Escalade with Liz’s father in the passenger seat. All these months, Carreon had kept Dr. Munez prisoner to ensure Liz’s obedience to whatever he demanded. Upon seeing Zeke, Carreon pushed Munez from the SUV, directly into the path of Zeke’s vehicle, forcing him to stop. The action allowed Carreon to escape.

Inside the stronghold—within the safe room—Zeke had found Liz’s body. Carreon had strangled her, just as Zeke’s visions had warned…horrific images he’d been unable to stop. Liz’s face was swollen and purplish. Bruises ringed her neck. He’d felt for a pulse but there hadn’t been any. No signs of—

Zeke forced back a shudder, not wanting to revisit that horror again. Desperate to flee the images, he stomped on the Jeep’s accelerator. With too much gas, the vehicle jerked forward, then jounced over the uneven terrain. He had to fight to keep it steady and to see where he was going. Turning on the headlights wasn’t something he could do. Carreon’s men might see them. They were still out here.

Before Zeke could slow down, the tires hit a particularly deep rut. The Jeep’s front tires dropped into it, and then the vehicle jolted upward.

Liz inhaled sharply. She dug her fingers into Zeke’s thigh to steady herself.

He wanted to glance at her but resisted the urge. All they needed now was for him to lose control of the Jeep, flipping it. Injuring not only himself, but also Liz and her father to the point of unconsciousness. Before long, Carreon’s men would arrive, circling them like vultures.

How could you forget that? What the fuck is the matter with you?

Zeke eased his foot from the accelerator to slow the vehicle. “You okay?” he asked Liz.

“Yeah.”

Her voice didn’t rasp from her previous injuries…her murder. It was as though it had never occurred, the same as Zeke’s brush with death. After another deep breath, she stopped gripping his leg and rested her palm on his thigh.

Her hand’s weight sent a flood of warmth through Zeke that comforted and aroused him. He recalled the feel of her lush nudity, her willing submission and longing for his kisses, the hunger of his caress, his cock buried deep within her cunt.

Its tightness and heat was the shelter he’d needed and had always searched for without even knowing it. Her smile of approval, the love he recognized in her eyes was the only heaven Zeke desired.

Without her, he’d die, no longer caring what happened. With her, he had hope for the future, the first in years. All he had to do to make certain it lasted was to find Carreon and kill the prick. Not quickly, though. He needed the bastard to suffer for what he’d done in the past to Zeke’s clan and family. To his little girl Gabrielle.

A surge of outrage, quick and hot, tore through Zeke.

“You all right?” Liz asked, squeezing his thigh.

He fought to control his anger and finally managed a nod. He’d deal with Carreon later. Right now, he had to see to Liz’s safety and her father’s. They were more than ten miles from his clan’s stronghold with few places to hide in this desolate area. A precarious position. The only thing that might possibly save them was this route. Here, they shouldn’t run into Carreon’s three lieutenants who’d escaped tonight’s battle with Zeke’s men.

Liz twisted slightly, trying to see in the back. Her father sat behind her. “Papa, you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His words bounced in concert with the Jeep’s rough movements.

Liz blew out a breath.

Zeke welcomed the sound as much as he did her laughter, her pleasured moans when he mounted her. Thankfully, that would happen again. A fucking lot. Hell, if he had his way, he’d never pull out of her. Certainly not to sleep, perhaps not even to eat.

Losing her once was all that he could bear.

The corners of his eyes were still sticky from tears, shed when he’d believed she was gone from him forever. He’d thought, as Liz had, that she and her father were only able to heal the injured, a gift bestowed on them by their mixture of Aztec and extraterrestrial blood.

Because of Carreon and men like him, Liz’s father hadn’t told her the most important secret regarding their gift.

Not only could they undo damage from an accident or the bullets that had torn into Zeke’s chest, they could reanimate.

Earlier, Liz had been beyond simple healing, the delicate bones in her throat crushed from the pressure of Carreon’s hands. When her father finally convinced Zeke there was nothing he could do, that his love alone wouldn’t bring Liz back, he’d finally released her. Through his tears, Zeke watched Munez cradle his daughter’s face. He expected the older man to offer a farewell.

Instead, Munez poured his healing gift, his life force into her. With astonishing speed, the lividity drained from Liz’s face, her complexion returning to its rich olive coloring. She’d stirred as though awakening from a sound sleep, rather than having come back to life.

Carreon didn’t know the full extent of the healing gift. If he learned Liz and her father could reanimate the dead rather than merely healing the injured, he’d do whatever he could to imprison them both. This time, he’d make certain they brought back his lieutenants who were killed in battle with Zeke’s men.

The blood feud had already spanned thousands of years, all to gain power over each other’s gifts or to hold on to so-called sacred territory. Many on both sides claimed it was a tribute to or preparation for the return of their ancient ancestors. Beings who’d crossed deep space and had come to Earth millennia before.

While the Unknowns had bred with Liz’s Aztec ancestors, the Others had done the same with the Comanche clan from which Zeke had descended, leaving generations like him with the gift of prophecy.

Zeke grasped the steering wheel so hard his fingers hurt. He loathed his gift as much as Carreon coveted it. Until the bastard was beyond reanimation, he’d keep trying to capture and imprison Zeke so he could exploit the visions for his own ends.

If it took Zeke’s last breath, he’d find Carreon and would destroy him. There was simply no other—

Shit. The ashy light showed a sudden turn in the trail, interrupting his thoughts. As carefully as he could, Zeke veered to the right.

Liz’s hand slid off his thigh.

He jockeyed the vehicle past rocks and furrows, missing each. The ride was now relatively smooth, considering. It should have calmed him but didn’t. Why?

A quick check of the gauges told him the Jeep was operating properly. He scanned the moon-washed landscape, not seeing anyone coming their way. A good thing. Except something still wasn’t quite right.

What?

Her hand slid off my thigh.

Liz hadn’t taken it back. It had dropped away from him.

Uneasy at what that might mean, Zeke slowed the Jeep and glanced over. His next breath froze in his throat.

Liz’s chin rested on her chest. Her thick chestnut hair had swung forward, hiding her face. The ends shifted with the Jeep’s movements, as did her arms and legs. She looked asleep…unconscious.

Dead.

“Liz!” Zeke shouted.

He hit the brakes. The vehicle skidded over the loose terrain, then shimmied to a stop. Dirt swirled around it, driven by the tires and breeze. The moon’s sheer rays illuminated the area in front of them, murky with dust that blew from behind.

“What is it?” her father cried.

It’s okay. Dammit, it has to be. She must have hit her head on the door when the Jeep was bouncing, which knocked her out. That’s all it was. She couldn’t be—

Zeke pushed the awful thought away and turned in his seat. Before he could grab her and shake her back to consciousness, Munez clamped his hand on her shoulder.

Liz jerked as though an electric shock had shot through her body. She blinked rapidly and wore the same confused expression one would when fighting to pull out of a deep slumber. Turning from Zeke to her father and back, she asked, “What?”

She regarded the landscape—isolated and eerie—then frowned. “Why did you stop?”

Zeke grabbed her upper arm. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No.” Her frown said she found his question odd. “Why?”

“How do you feel now?” her father asked.

She brushed back her hair and noticed his hand on her shoulder. “Frightened.”

A wave of nausea rolled through Zeke. Had she gone to the other side again? Was it calling her back, refusing to loosen its grip on her? He squeezed her arm. “Why?”

Her eyebrows lifted at his obvious panic. “We’re not moving. We’re targets out here if Carreon’s men find us. We need to get going.” She gestured to the road.

Zeke made no move to go down it.

Bewilderment flooded her lovely features. She studied the vehicle’s gauges. “Is something wrong with the motor? Is it about to quit? Are we going to have to walk to your stronghold?”

Zeke tried to exchange a glance with her father, but the man kept his attention on her. If he was concerned about what just happened, it didn’t register on his aged face.

“We better get going,” Munez said.

Reluctantly, Zeke pulled away. This time, he drove more cautiously, which allowed him to sneak glimpses of Liz. Her complexion was lighter in the wan light, though not too pale. Certainly nowhere near the point where he’d question her well-being. If anything, her hazel eyes sparkled with life and health. Her sultry features—especially her pouty lower lip—were as inviting as the first time they’d been together.

They’d been in Carreon’s stronghold then. Three bullets to his chest had brought Zeke down with little chance of survival. Carreon ordered Liz to heal their enemy so he could harness and use Zeke’s ability to see the future.

Zeke had awakened in a large bed with Liz’s body draped over his, both of them nude, their mouths joined, her breath and life force pouring inside, healing him. She’d delivered him from the brink of death, from his desire to continue to the other side so he could reunite with Gabrielle, his daughter. She was only eight when Carreon’s lieutenants had murdered her. Zeke hadn’t wanted to be separated from his child again. He resented Liz’s efforts to heal him and fought against it, but her power had been too strong.

Her touch, warmth and weight too enticing.

Her violet fragrance, light and sweet, had mingled with her womanly musk, so feminine and sultry. He’d returned her kiss, savoring the unique flavor of her tongue, her seeming willingness to be with him. They’d necked hungrily, then with a surprising measure of tenderness. As though they were sweethearts committed to each other, not enemies brought together by Carreon’s desire for power. He’d once been Liz’s lover, duping her into wanting him and healing his men.

Carreon’s possession of her changed that night.

When Zeke had entered Liz, she became his alone. His body trembled at her cunt’s intense heat, its snug fit around his rigid cock. On one level, Zeke had known she used their mating to heal him. The deeper he went, the more of her healing gift and life force he drew inside.

On another level, he understood she’d wanted him, even then, as much as he soon desired her.

She had to be all right. There couldn’t be any other outcome. She must have fallen asleep a few seconds ago. After the battle between their people, her subsequent death and resurrection, she had every reason to be tired. Hell, who wouldn’t be?

At last, she looked at him. “You should keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you tired?”

Genuine surprise flickered across her face. “No. Why? Do I look it?”

Zeke had rarely seen her more alert. More alive.

Unwilling to dwell on how long it might last or what had caused her previous spell—if that was all it was—he concentrated on his driving.

Munez settled back into his seat. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Zeke the older man’s shock of white hair, his forehead and cheeks furrowed further by the play of moonlight and shadows. The doctor continued to watch his daughter. However, no concern showed on his features.

Zeke drove without thinking, knowing this area well. As much as he tried to stop it, he kept recalling how Liz’s body had flopped in her seat, no different from a rag doll or someone who no longer had control of their limbs.

Why?

More importantly, why hadn’t she recalled it? She hadn’t been a bit concerned or confused at what had happened. It was as though her mind remained sharp, continuing to register events, even as her body ceased to respond. Was that normal for someone with her blood and heritage? Was that why her father didn’t seem at all uneasy?

Zeke chanced another glimpse in his rearview mirror.

In that instant, the noise from the Jeep’s chugging motor faded, along with Liz’s too quiet breathing that he’d strained to hear. He wasn’t able to detect rocks and other debris hitting the vehicle’s undercarriage, though he knew they must be, the noise mimicking the rat-a-tat-tat of faraway gunfire. The hissing he now heard was loud enough to be painful. He winced.

When he tried to focus on Munez’s snowy hair and weathered face in the mirror, the man’s image faded beneath a glare of white—an oncoming vision.

Within seconds, it was as though Zeke stood outside the Jeep, observing himself as he brought the vehicle to a slow halt. He watched Liz and her father turning to him, speaking words he couldn’t hear, their expressions surprised…worried.

He couldn’t answer. Too many pictures pulsed in his mind with the irritating speed of a strobe light.

He saw a woman’s hand, her skin color rich, familiar. Liz? Within her fist she held a slender onyx knife with a metal button on the side of its hilt. A switchblade? Blood dirtied its steel edge. Whose?

Carreon’s face materialized into the scene, similar to when a photograph develops. Pleasure hooded his pale blue eyes. His broad smile revealed his satisfaction. Had he killed someone else? Taken them prisoner?

Zeke blinked rapidly, needing to see more. Another man filled his vision, younger than Carreon, possibly late twenties. Dirt from the desert coated his denim jeans and jacket. Wind tugged at his dark hair, worn longish. Anticipation tightened his handsome features.

Wait! Zeke’s mind shouted.

Whorls of dust obscured the young man’s image before Zeke could study it. New pictures flashed in his mind, these at record speed. He saw the inside of the vehicle Liz had taken to Carreon’s stronghold, its dashboard illuminated though no one was inside. Next, he saw Carreon’s lieutenants, each in their early thirties, the same as him. Something wet shone dully on their black clothes. Blood? Their vehicle’s dashboard illuminated their faces, their features taut with fear and hate.

The one in the passenger seat kept looking at his side-view mirror as though he feared someone following them. The driver divided his attention between what lay in front and to the left. His pitiless stare turned to surprise, then renewed rage at whatever he’d spotted.

The man in the backseat leaned up, his mouth forming the question, “What?”

Coming, coming, coming, Zeke’s thoughts warned.

He blinked at a flash of light. A gun’s report. A thin line of smoke rose from its muzzle. The Jeep’s windshield cracked, its glass webbing in all directions. Blood bloomed on a woman’s torso. Liz?

No.

“Zeke?”

Dumbly, he regarded her hand on his arm. His vision had faded as quickly as it had arrived, much of it already gone, which left only snatches of what he’d seen. Shifting the Jeep into reverse, he turned it around in a tight circle.

Liz gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Taking cover.”

“From what?”

Carreon’s lieutenants. During tonight’s battle, Zeke’s clan had killed most of the men. They’d taken two prisoner, with three having escaped. They were heading this way. He didn’t know how, given the hidden route. He wasn’t even certain if his vision was correct. It hadn’t always been in the past. However, he couldn’t discount any of it now.

“Tell us what you saw,” Liz cried.

Her father leaned up. Just as Carreon’s man had in Zeke’s mind.

“You had a vision?” Munez asked.

Zeke nodded, unwilling to tell either of them the extent of what he’d seen. He drove the Jeep toward a series of boulders and parked it behind the largest, then grabbed his assault rifle.

“Wait.” Liz dug her fingers into his arm, just below his tribal band tattoo. It formed a stylized snake curled around the eye of an eagle that designated him as a prophet. The snake’s head was gone, cut out by Carreon as a trophy when Zeke had lay dying.

“What did your vision show you?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

Zeke shook her off. “Get on the floor.” He spoke to her father. “You too.”

Liz didn’t move. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Zeke insisted.

She reached into the backseat for another weapon. “I’m coming with—”

“I saw you bleeding, killed in the crossfire,” Zeke blurted, then lied. “Your father too. Neither of you able to save the other. My vision showed Carreon’s men taking me prisoner, torturing me so I’d tell them the future. Do you want that?”

Her mouth trembled. “No.”

“Then do as I say and get on the floor.”

She looked torn between arguing and leaving him to fight Carreon’s men alone. “Please come back,” she whispered.

“I will.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek.

Liz took his hand and kissed his palm. Then she crouched on the floor, the same as her father had already done.

Zeke exited the vehicle and ran ahead to another series of rocks, his moccasins muting the sound of his footfalls. He took cover behind the biggest of the group. The strong breeze, mild and dry, smelled of dust. It tugged at his shoulder-length hair and dried the sweat on his naked chest. He held his breath and listened, then heard a faint hum in the distance—a generator or the sound faraway traffic might make when driven by the wind. This deep in the desert, the noise from a generator was impossible.

The merciless landscape was all too still, its thirsty vegetation scarcely moving with the gusts of wind. A uniform pewter shade stretched out before Zeke, interrupted by specks of some luminescent material that glittered within the endless miles of land.

The hum grew louder.

With the butt of his assault rifle braced against his shoulder, Zeke waited. Perspiration broke out on his forehead. Several drops slipped down the side of his nose and ran into his eyes. He blinked away the sting. His throat hurt from his heart’s frantic pounding. Grit filled his nostrils and coated his lips.

Movement. To the right.

He strained to see better and focused on an area approximately half a mile away. A series of large rocks jutted up from the ground, resembling a monster’s bony spine, whitened by the moonlight.

Zeke concentrated on them. Come on.

Nothing happened.

He swore, then sucked in a breath at a shadow moving in front of the pale stone. A new blast of wind brought the hum closer to reveal the sound of a motor.

Within minutes, Zeke saw the outline of a vehicle, its headlights off. From this distance, its shape resembled an SUV. Had to be Carreon’s men. At this hour—in this location—who else would be driving this way in the dark?

He tensed as it neared. Within his rifle’s scope, Zeke regarded the driver and his passengers in the moonlight streaming through the windshield. All were dressed in black. Smears of something equally dark, most probably dried blood, dirtied their cheeks.

They were the men from his vision, but they looked younger now. Scared to die when they’d barely had a chance to live.

Zeke hesitated. He considered the possibility of letting them choose his side over Carreon’s or living out their lives as prisoners of his clan. Their decision.

Would they take him up on the offer, or would they ridicule his suggestion, wanting to battle it out?

His forefinger slid down the weapon’s trigger. Their SUV rocked from side to side as it moved over the bumpy road. Available light skimmed off the barrels of their rifles, the metal glinting briefly.

How many of their victims had seen those brief flashes before they’d died?

Had Gabrielle?

Zeke’s chest ached at the memory of his daughter—her new outfit, a cheery yellow, stained with her blood. She’d died along with her mother and a score of other women while they attended a child’s birthday party.

Had one of these men been responsible for the carnage?

Even if they were innocent of that crime, did it matter? They’d been at Zeke’s stronghold tonight, shooting at doors, not caring if women and children were inside the rooms. They’d been prepared to take him prisoner no matter how many innocents they harmed.

His hesitation and humanity fell away, replaced by icy resolve. Never again would any of Carreon’s lieutenants take a loved one from him. Not while Zeke still breathed.

He steadied his weapon, focusing on the driver in his crosshairs. The man’s skin was darker than his companions, possibly a deep bronze. Hard to tell in the scant light. His thick black hair was slicked back, his expression unchanging when the bullet pierced his upper lip. It shattered his teeth and surely destroyed his brainstem.

His companion’s heavy eyebrows shot up, no doubt at the sound of the bullet’s impact, the blood that sprayed on his beard-shadowed cheeks.

It would be the last movement the man ever made on this earth. Zeke’s next shot caught the passenger in his thick throat.

The man in the backseat opened his mouth in what appeared to be a scream.

Without anyone to guide it, the SUV wove drunkenly over the trail, listing to the left as it hit a deep cleft. Back and forth it tottered, its metal groaning like a creature from hell before it came to an uneasy stop, leaning on one side. Two of its inhabitants slumped lifelessly in their seats. No different than Liz had looked a short while a—

Stop it.

Bent at the waist to take as much cover as he could, Zeke ran toward the SUV. As he neared the vehicle, he heard scrambling inside—the remaining man trying to right himself and grab his gun.

Zeke remained in a crouch as more noises poured from the vehicle. A frustrated huff. The smack of a man’s foot hitting a door, which swung open with a tortured creak.

Puffs of dust plumed up as Carreon’s remaining lieutenant fell from the SUV, his boots hitting the ground.

Taking aim, Zeke hollered, “Drop the weapon, or you’re dead too.”

All movement stopped. Even the Jeep’s elevated wheels no longer spun.

“Move away from the vehicle—slowly,” Zeke shouted. “Hands—”

“Fuck you!” The man lifted his rifle, took aim.

Zeke fired a volley of shots into his legs, exposed beneath the Jeep’s opened door. On a wild, agonized scream, Carreon’s lieutenant tumbled down, still clutching his weapon, aiming it, preparing to fire.

Another shot stopped him from doing so.

Zeke wanted to feel bad, but couldn’t. Nor would he offer any of these men a chance at reanimation. Their deaths were for Gabrielle and all the others in his clan who’d never asked for this fight. Who’d paid the ultimate price for Carreon’s hunger for power.

As the man’s blood flowed into the parched ground, Zeke regarded him. He was lean with a shaved head, the same as Carreon, his features decidedly plain, his lips too thin, nose too large. Not the man in Zeke’s vision whose longish hair and good looks were the kind that women found enticing, arousing.

Why had he been in the vision? Who was he? Another of Carreon’s men?

Zeke pulled the driver from the vehicle. His body thudded to the ground. Given the SUV’s angle, it would be a bitch to climb in and delete the GPS information so Carreon’s other lieutenants wouldn’t be able to use it to locate Zeke’s stronghold.

They wouldn’t have had it the last time if not for Kele. Zeke tamped down his anger at her. Heartache and jealousy, nothing else, had led her to betray their clan. She loved his younger brother, Jacob, while Jacob barely noticed her. Jacob wanted Liz, despite Zeke’s insistence that he wouldn’t share her. With Kele unable to stand any more hurt or rejection, she’d led Carreon’s men to the stronghold tonight so they would take Liz away.

To keep that from happening again, Zeke positioned himself at what he hoped was a safe distance and fired into the dashboard. Luckily, there wasn’t a dramatic explosion, the vehicle engulfed in flames, him hit by flying metal as one might see in an action-adventure flick.

A gaping hole replaced where the GPS system had once been. Faint wisps of smoke rose from it and the muzzle of his weapon. The best he could do. Hopefully, these men had been too busy fleeing to have downloaded the data to Carreon’s computer system and given the bastard another chance to locate Zeke’s clan in what was supposed to be a hidden and secure location.

He took the men’s weapons and cell phones, then ran back to the Jeep. His feet pounded the dirt, an accompaniment to the other night sounds. Animals cried out in the dark or skittered about. Brisk air skipped over the stark landscape, whining, then whistling. Near-dead vegetation crackled as though in answer.

At the Jeep, Zeke opened Liz’s door. She flinched, horror etched on her face, her tee and jeans smeared with blood from the earlier battle that Kele had caused.

“It’s all right,” Zeke panted. “I got them.”

She reached for him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” He swallowed and embraced her briefly. “Get back in your seat, please. We have to go.” He circled the vehicle and put the confiscated phones and weapons on the floor in the back.

Munez leaned away from them.

Zeke got behind the wheel.

“Your vision didn’t come true this time,” Liz said. “It did when Carreon strangled me, but not—”

“It wouldn’t have happened then if you hadn’t left the stronghold. When I tell you to stay put, you do so, understand?” He shifted the Jeep into drive. “That’s why Jacob was hit tonight. My vision showed it happening, and I tried to prevent it, but he refused to listen to me. Just like you keep—”

“All right, all right, I’ll—wait, what are you doing?” She looked in her side-view mirror, the direction they’d been going. “This is the wrong way, isn’t it?”

Zeke gulped more air. “We have to go back to Carreon’s stronghold.”

“You can’t be serious. Why?”

“The vehicle you drove to Carreon’s is still there.”

“So?”

Zeke sighed out his next breath, wearier than he wanted to be. “He or his men will use the GPS to locate my clan’s stronghold. Right now, I’m hoping they still don’t know where it is. The moment they do, they’ll come again for you and your father. This time my people and I might not be able to stop them.”

Liz rocked in her seat as though she didn’t want to hear it.

Zeke continued toward Carreon’s stronghold, not knowing what he’d find. Not knowing what else his visions might protect them from or lead them into.