The Chosen (11 page)

All afternoon and into the evening his rational attorney mind began to play through different scenarios, until he was as agitated as a frog on a hot skillet. It was all he could do to keep sitting in his saddle. He was hot, irritated, and damn hungry.

“What’s eating you, Jackson?” China called from behind him. “Got sand in your shorts?”

Remington clenched his jaw hard enough that he could hear his teeth grind in his skull. He brought his horse to a stop. China was obliged to do the same since there wasn’t room for her to pass him on the trail. He turned in his saddle and locked his gaze on her.

 

 

China’s skin seemed to shrink a size under the piercing blue stare. It was the same intense look Colt had given her that could shake her confidence and strip away her bold as brass attitude in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was a Jackson family trait. Maybe it was just a Hunter skill.

“I’ve got something eating at me, if that’s what you’re implying.”

She swallowed and flicked a glance up ahead of Remington long enough to see that the first mate had kept on going. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. If you don’t want to talk about it I—”

“Get off your horse.”

“What?”

“Off.”

“Why?”

He swung down from his horse and stalked toward her. China’s stomach flip-flopped. “It’s just occurred to me that I don’t know you very well, Miss McGee, and before we go any farther, I’m going to get some answers from you.”

Her grip on her reins tightened until her knuckles were hard and white. “This ain’t court, Jackson, and you ain’t a judge. I don’t have to talk if I don’t want to.” She turned and lifted her chin, staring pointedly ahead. As long as she did not look at him, she’d be fine.

He stood there, quiet, brooding, the energy pulsing off him in annoyed waves. Her sharp sense of smell detected a whiff of what she called male pride—peppery and strong with a hint of musk. It always grew stronger when men faced off against one another, or when they were showing off.

“If I talk to you, will you leave me alone?”

Remington remained silent.

China counted to five before she turned and hazarded a glance. He was still staring at her, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

She gestured with a hand at the trailhead where Monica had disappeared. “We’re going to lose her if we don’t get going.”

“And we’re not going anywhere before we have a little talk.”

Night was coming swiftly, the mountains had long turned a bruised purple behind them, and the sun had set, leaving a smear of pale golden light behind the peaks to their right. China sighed and swung her leg back, sliding down out of her saddle. It was a silly move on her part that left her smack dab between his massive body and that of her horse.

“Say your piece then, so we can get going before the wild things come out.”

“Why did you agree to help Colt find the missing piece of the Book of Legend?”

“He told me he’d pay me. I’m a good tracker and an even better thief.”

He stared at her.

She narrowed her eyes back at him. “Did you have another question?”

“Wrong answer.”

Her anger kicked up a notch. China crossed her arms and didn’t give a damn that they bumped into his. “Then perhaps you ought to do a better job asking the question.”

Quicker than she could blink he’d grabbed her about the upper arms and lifted her to the tips of her toes. “What’s in it for you? What do you get out of coming with me? Out of risking your life?”

Her entire body stiffened. China tried hard to swallow past the sudden hard lump swelling in her throat. Her eyes burned. “Revenge.”

Remington frowned. “On who?”

“Rathe.”

He set her down so her feet were back on solid ground, and his hold on her softened slightly, but not enough for her to twist easily out of his grasp. “What’d he do to you?”

She started to shake. She couldn’t control it. Images came of her mother, frail and worked to the bone, trying to scrape by to feed and clothe her. Of her mother being hunted down by man and Darkin alike when she wouldn’t just blindly hand over her six-year-old to the demons who came for her. Of the torture her mother endured as they raked her flesh with their claws. “It’s not what he did to me; it’s what he did to my mother.” As much as she craved Rathe’s approval and feared him, she also hated part of him for hurting her and her mother as he had.

Remington’s hands slid from her as he folded her into his arms. China couldn’t hold back the heat or the tears any longer. It hurt to think on it. It hurt to remember. She wanted to shrink within herself and escape, but she couldn’t. When she thought about the past there was nowhere to go where it didn’t hurt. Where it didn’t burn her to the core, knowing she could’ve saved her mother if only she’d never been born. It hurt even more to know that once they’d killed her mother and handed her over to Rathe, over time she’d come to love her father, to crave his approval and small kindnesses.

She knew he was capable of horrible things—had seen it with her own eyes. The severed heads of his enemies were shrunken and gilded, becoming macabre fobs on the elegant watch chain he wore. It had horrified her and yet made her grateful each time she was not the object of his sadistic behavior. And when she was, she knew it was somehow her fault. Even now she knew Rathe’s ending the world as it was couldn’t be right, and yet she couldn’t help herself. She needed to get that completed Book of Legend to him. She was compelled to. And she hated that weakness within her.

She curled into the solid warmth of Remington’s chest. He didn’t tell her not to cry. He just held her while she did. Silent. Strong. He offered her what no one else had, the safety to crawl within herself for a moment, to work through the despair and confusion that she stuffed down daily. China dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and inhaled the scent of him as her body shook with sobs.

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair, the heat of his words soft and soothing against her scalp.

She pulled back and looked into his face. “For what?”

“Bringing up the past.”

China sniffled. “It’s not your fault.”
It was hers. Always hers.

He stiffened slightly, putting his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “What did Rathe do to your mother?”

China pulled back from the warmth and turned away from him, her stomach suddenly sick at the thought of telling the truth to him. Once he knew, he wouldn’t forget. Once he knew, he wouldn’t forgive.

She turned her gaze back to him, stricken. She didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to ruin things between them. But she would, just like she’d ruined things with her father by falling for Colt. A mistake she didn’t intend to repeat. She’d get on Rathe’s good side and hope it was enough to remove the curse of being Marked, even if it meant stealing the complete Book of Legend away from the Jackson brothers once it was put back together.

His eyes narrowed, reading her face. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.” He pulled her back into the warmth of his arms.

But deep down in her chest an icy chill took hold, making her shiver. It might not matter to him now, but soon, very soon, it would.

For a moment he just stood there and stared at China. Her revelation of her past gave Remington pause. “Are you certain you want to take on Rathe this way?”

“You have a better idea than joining with the Chosen and putting the Book of Legend together to close the Gates of Nyx?” China demanded, her cheeks flushed.

Warm desert wind funneled down the canyon, buffeting them as the temperature of the desert continued to drop. Their horses shuffled uneasily as they waited to continue their journey. It was still light enough that if they got back on now and continued riding at a decent speed, they could reach the mountains by dark. But then where? Remington realized getting off the horses had been an error in judgment. They needed Monica’s knowledge of the terrain to get to Caborca.

Dark came swiftly out in the wide open spaces, and the minute that sliver of red hid behind the mountains, they’d be plunged into darkness with just the moon to light their surroundings.

“Give me a minute to think it over, and I might come up with something better.”

He didn’t like depending on anyone, and First Mate Nation was an unknown entity. He still wasn’t sure if he was willing to entrust his life, and China’s, to a woman he knew so little about. Other than his father’s relationship with Diego—and that was rocky at best—he didn’t have a reason to trust her. Or China.

He had no idea how far Monica had gone on without them in the few minutes they’d been talking, if she’d double back for them, or if she’d abandoned them. Hell, for all he knew this could be a setup designed to leave them vulnerable or dead so she could retrieve the codex for herself and keep Elwin’s portion of the Book hidden. There were Hunters who didn’t believe in the whole hokey-pokey prophecies about the Chosen. He and his brothers among them.

If she’d left them high and dry, he figured he was no worse off than he’d been before he’d contacted Diego.

China’s Darkin connections and revenge plan should probably give him more grounds to distrust
her
. That, coupled with her frequent, and sometimes shocking, propensity to shift at the drop of a hat certainly had him on his toes.

He glanced at her now, the wind blowing her long hair around her shoulders like a veil. The heat and exertion of the day had pinked up her cheeks and made her unusual gray eyes sparkle and shine.

She looked, Remy thought, somewhat discombobulated by the observation, far too touchable and pretty to be a Darkin.

While it was true China hadn’t done anything to harm him yet when she’d shifted into her various forms, that didn’t mean that under the right circumstances she wouldn’t turn on him as Darkin were wont to do. It wasn’t in a Darkin’s makeup to be good friends with humans, and if he or she did extend a friendly hand, a man would be smart to make sure there were no claws or other lethal appendages attached.

Revenge made people stupid and unpredictable. Revenge made people take risks they would never take under normal circumstances. They’d make choices they normally wouldn’t, and do things they found abhorrent, if the chance came to make the object of their revenge suffer.

Just how far would China be willing to go to get back at Rathe? Remington’s brain spun. Unlike his brothers, he liked to look at a situation from all sides. Sometimes he found looking at a case from the defendant’s point of view much different than looking at it from the eyes of the plaintiff, or even the judge.

“So getting the Book of Legend reunited isn’t as important to you as getting the Gates of Nyx closed?” he asked. Her answer would tell him how far she’d be willing to go to achieve her objective and how much he, and his mission, were at risk.

Sparks fired up in her eyes as if metal were grinding against metal. “It’d be even better if you could close them on his damn neck.”

“Vicious little thing when crossed, aren’t you?” Remington observed dryly.

And just that quick the spark in her eyes winked out. “I don’t like being hurt,” she murmured softly, the words slipping like a breath past her full, kissable lips.

Damn it. He didn’t want to know that she could be hurt, either physically or emotionally. She was a Darkin. Darkin didn’t
have
human emotions, did they? “And have I hurt you?”

She shook her head. Light from the moon illuminated her golden hair, making it gleam like moonbeams. Now that darkness had settled in like a blanket across the landscape, the air grew cooler, making him that much more aware of the heat of her body beside him. The scents of night-blooming cactus flowers, sweet and potent, mixed with the clean fragrance of vanilla coming off her skin. His body went where his mind couldn’t, soaking up the sensations and humming with it.

She did something to him all right. She near turned him inside out with just a glance. And now that he knew more about the real China, he thought his brother either a complete fool or exceedingly brilliant. He saw how she could easily sneak her way under a Hunter’s thick skin. She was charming and bold, with just enough sass to make sparring with her an enjoyable pastime.

“What do you think is happening?”

“Monica’s run off and left us here to die?” China retorted, sounding surprisingly belligerent.

He had no idea, but wished he knew. “She’s probably riding ahead to scout.” He hoped.

“I don’t trust her.” She made a rude noise. “We’re the crazy ones. Off to seal ourselves in a tin can of a boat with a strong possibility of drowning.”

He used his index finger to push her chin upward so she was forced to look at him. Her eyes looked like mercury in the moonlight, all shining and liquid silver. Just looking at her like this was enough to make him want her. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

“You know I wasn’t asking about the submarine, or the Book, or Rathe.”

“Then perhaps you ought to rephrase the question, counselor.”

“I keep getting mixed signals from you. I want to know if you are as attracted to me as you were to Colt.”

She nibbled at the base of her rosy lip, and his famous control crumbled. He wanted what he wanted, and right now it was her.

“I don’t think—”

Remy crushed his mouth down upon hers, cutting her off. He didn’t want to think about what it all meant, or why they were here, or even what might happen next. He wanted to kiss the beautiful woman in front of him in the moonlight. To get the crazy simmering interest she sparked in him under control.

But it all went sideways. Instead of calming his irrational impulse to kiss her, the smooth, slick slide of her lips on his spiked his temperature, and he instantly found a simple kiss was not enough. Like a damn laudanum addict, he craved more.

Remington deepened the kiss. He tasted her and found the flavor of coffee, mixed with the sweet, wild taste of prickly pears from their improvised dinner on the trail. His hand slowly caressed the slender channel of her spine. China shivered, the small soft sounds she made in the back of her throat stoking the fire already burning in his belly. His pulse roared in his ears. There weren’t any words he could summon in a moment like this. All he could do was be carried along by it.

Her tongue was wet and warm, her teeth slick and smooth. He speared the silk of her hair with his fingers, letting it slip against his skin as he cupped the back of her head with one hand and wrapped the other around the curve of her ass, bringing her closer. God, she was soft where he was hard. And she smelled good. Too good. She reminded him of warm cookies straight from the oven. A feather-soft bed. Especially the bed. She softened against him, the plump pillows of her breasts pressing against his chest. In his mind he could see the glorious curves of her.

“Mr. Jackson! Miss McGee!” The sound of Monica’s voice over the clop of her horse’s hooves broke the spell weaving between them. The horses whinnied, and China pushed back from him. She was breathing hard, her eyes glazed and bright with desire.

Remy ran a finger along the rim of his shirt collar, finding it suddenly hard to get enough air with every breath. Holy Hannah. No wonder Colt couldn’t resist her. Despite his little brother’s assumptions, Remington probably knew women just as well as his little brother. And China McGee, Darkin or not, was one hell of a woman. Remington cleared his throat and flexed his hands.

He didn’t want to apologize. In fact, given half the chance and an hour longer, he’d likely go a lot further. But he did owe China an apology. And he ought to give it before Monica came within earshot.

He pulled at the rim of his Stetson. “Apologies, Miss McGee. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

China simply stared at him, a sexy as hell smile playing about her lips.

He waited for her to say something, anything.

“Well?”

She shrugged. “Don’t see why you’re apologizing. If I hadn’t wanted you to kiss me, I would have kneed you in the balls.”

It took Remington a moment to process that before he burst out laughing. So she had wanted him to kiss her. That brought a whole new level of danger to his attraction to her. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

 

 

Monica’s black gelding came to a standstill in front of them on the trail. “Well at least you’re in good spirits.” She glanced at the two horses standing aimlessly in the middle of the trail. “What happened? Horse throw a shoe?”

Remington and China turned and answered in unison. Unfortunately he said yes and she said no, which made Monica frown. “Well, which is it? Did the horse throw a shoe or can we ride on?”

Remington glared at China, and a small part of the happy glow that filled her dissolved instantly.

“We can ride,” China quickly answered. She didn’t know why Remington didn’t want Monica knowing what they’d been up to, but an insistent little thought pestered her. Perhaps he was ashamed to be working with her—ashamed of his attraction to her. It made perfectly logical sense. He was a Hunter after all. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less. The kiss should have been a fond memory, not a wicked barb.

China’s skin contracted, but not from the cold alone. Perhaps she should focus more on getting them to the Book and the Gates, and less on how Remington Jackson was far too tempting for his own good.

Rathe could still reach her here. He could reach her anywhere. And she’d do well to remember how displeased he’d been last time he’d found her focus had tilted. She needed to remember Remington Jackson was only a means to an end. The important thing was to get to the piece of the Book so the whole thing could be reunited. Then she’d tail along to the Gates of Nyx and ensure Rathe got the entire thing handed to him. He’d be pleased then. He’d forgive her. The sooner that happened, the better. She didn’t like walking on eggshells and living under the cloud that at any moment he might call her to his domain to question her progress and deliver appropriate discipline if he didn’t like her answer.

“How far are we from Caborca?” she asked Monica.

“If we rest for an hour or two, then keep riding, we can be there by tomorrow.”

Remington mounted his horse. “I’d rather travel by night. It’ll save the horses’ strength if they don’t have to fight the heat.”

Monica gave a single nod. “Shall I go slower this time so you two can keep up?” China didn’t miss the sarcasm in Monica’s tone. She nearly rose to the bait, but then glanced at Remington. He was perfectly calm, as if nothing had sparked into a full-fledged inferno of a kiss between them.

“We’ll manage just fine,” he said, his tone even and unflustered. He turned and glanced at her. “Ready?”

China mounted her horse, and they set off once more. China fell behind Remington, Monica in the lead. China stared at his broad back. Well, damn. Maybe the kiss hadn’t impacted him half as much as it had her. The moment his lips had met hers, China had just about split out of her skin. His clever hands set off a shimmer in her blood, and his even more clever tongue had caused her bones to liquefy and turned her knees spongy. The man could flat-out kiss a girl senseless.

But then he’d gone and ruined the whole sensual haze he’d put her in by apologizing. Apologizing! What the hell did the man think she’d been offended by? A few minutes more and she would have started peeling the clothing off of him and taking him right there in the moonlit dirt, regardless of the consequences.

They rode on in silence. The moon rose higher, casting the rocks of the mountain pass into stark shapes. Light and dark mingled freely, the shadows playing with the moonlight. China didn’t see why it couldn’t be the same between Darkin and Hunter. She and Colt had been a team of sorts, hadn’t they?

She worried her lip between her teeth. Damn. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Colt had just been using her. Fair enough. She’d just been using him as well. But at least it had been a symbiotic relationship. They both had gotten something on occasion out of the deal.

But with Remington things were different. He was more complicated than Colt. Hell, he kissed better than Colt. He made her want things she had never considered before—like a long-term relationship. Maybe even lov—no she refused to contemplate it.

Pop. Ping. Pop, pop. Ping. Ping.
“Gunfire! Get to cover!” Remington yelled as he pulled and cocked his revolver in one quick, smooth movement. He swung his horse around on the trail, trying to block the shots from hitting either her or Monica until they were all hidden safely behind a jagged outcrop of rock.

“Where’s it coming from?” China swung her leg over her horse’s back and slid to the ground, pulling her own gun.

Monica pointed to the silvered edge of the mountains just above them. “Up there, on that ridge. We’re getting close to where the trail narrows into a pass.”

China sniffed the air, trying to see if their attackers were human or Darkin. There was the taint of body odor, woodsmoke, and cooked meat, but no telltale hint of sulfur. “They aren’t Darkin. I’d bet it’s banditos.”