Love, Encoded (Selected Evolution Series Book 1) Read online

“His mother’s death is how you became aware of the chemical bonding? Shit! Maybe that’s the Anaconian connection.”

  Adam levered himself upright. A tentative hand hovered over the back of his head.

  “What the fuck did he hit me with?”

  “Something very dense,” Marnia supplied. “How’s your vision?”

  Adam’s glance raked over her. “There’s only one of you.”

  “And for that you can be grateful,” Kane muttered.

  “You can g—”

  “Come on,” he interrupted, “we’re moving.”

  Nick ran an agitated scowl over Kane’s beloved antique vehicle. “We’re going to need something faster than this.”

  “She’s got the speed. Get in.”

  Nick helped Adam clamber onto the bench seat in the back of the Combi and followed him in. Kane took the wheel and as Marnia got in beside him her fingers danced over a touch screen panel integrated into the dashboard. A flat-screen instrument activated into colourful life.

  “Back the way we came,” she ordered.

  They bumped along the drive then accelerated when the tyres hit the road.

  “You couldn’t have brought one of your SUVs?” Nick growled then turned his attention to Adam. “You alright, mate?”

  Adam nodded gingerly. “Surprisingly, yes. I swear I felt bone fracture . . .” He shrugged. “Marnia’s obviously damn good at what she does.”

  “That I am,” she agreed, turning in her seat to regard them. “How are your burns, Nick?”

  “Slight. They’re healing.”

  “Good.” She speared a smirk at Kane. “As I’m the one who performed the genetic enhancements that not only helped their bodies repel the laser fire, but also aids regeneration, I guess I do know what I’m doing.”

  Nick rubbed his knuckles and turned his gaze out the window, barely registering the Teatree hedges and industrial areas they sped by. Fear born of their impotence to immediately rescue Sarah boiled in his gut. He tried to steer his mind from what she was going through, how terrified she must be—and failed. By the grim reflection of Adam’s features in the window he suffered the same torment.

  “He’s gone south,” Marnia directed Kane as they neared the M1 motorway. “Looks like he’s headed for the Coast.”

  Kane weaved the Combi through four lanes of high-speed traffic. Fifteen long minutes later they careened up an off ramp and headed into the heart of Surfers Paradise. Traffic became congested. Nick’s anger compressed to combustion point, searing through his veins. Lights turned green and they headed across an intersection. A heavy cloud of wrongness settled on his soul.

  Sarah isn’t this way. “We’re going the wrong way.”

  “No,” Kane replied, “the target is clearly travelling in this direction.”

  Something inside him tore as they continued—away from Sarah. No, this is wrong. He grabbed the seat in front of him in a strangle hold fuelled by the terrible frustration seething in his gut and leaned forwards. “What got painted? Our truck or the man himself?”

  Marnia glanced at him then at Kane. She gnawed her lower lip. “If he’s had access to Anaconian technology this could be something new.”

  “Reflective technology?”

  Uncertainty hovered over Marnia’s features. “They’re connection to Sarah is . . . remarkable. Perhaps they can sense these things.”

  “Nick’s right,” Adam growled. “Sarah was taken left back there.”

  To the tune of squealing tyres and blasting horns, Kane spun the Combi against the flow of traffic and followed Nick and Adam’s directions.

  “Come on, sweetheart, wake up.”

  The words filtered into Sarah’s awareness. Uncomfortable, weighty warmth pinioned her into something soft cushioning her recumbent body. A thin, flat band of pressure shackled her wrists where they nestled against her chest.

  “I can do this without your active participation,” the male voice murmured.

  Memory struggled past the drug inhibiting her thoughts. Horror blazed in its trail. She snapped her eyes open and punched her fists upward. Barclese laughed and grabbed her restrained wrists. A shiver prickled over her bare skin and slammed home the minimal protection of her swimmers.

  “Subjugating you will bring me much pleasure.”

  “What do you want?” Ransom? She knew her brother would pay anything to get her back, but she wasn’t about to sit idly by and let the fortune he’d worked so bloody hard for be stripped away.

  “To get you alone, Sarah, you’re mine.”

  Why’s he doing this?

  Revenge for her brother turning down his business proposition? She snorted, tried desperately to inflame her ire lest absolute terror immobilize her. “You can’t be that hard up.”

  “This isn’t about sex, this is about bonding. Control.” He leaned closer, stared into her eyes. “Don’t you want revenge for what the Anaconians did to you?”

  The intimate puff of his minty breath repulsed her. “Anaconians? What are you talking about?”

  “Your protectors haven’t told you?”

  “What protectors? Haven’t told me what?” She wriggled beneath him, tried to get some distance from his imprisoning body. The soft material of the couch pressed into her, but she gained no respite. His laugh sent a shiver through her. “Where are Nick and Adam, you son—”

  He smiled and leaned a little closer, his nose almost touching hers. “By the time I’m finished with you, you won’t harbour a harsh thought in your pretty little head towards me.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. I wouldn’t bet on that. “Just what is it you’re after?”

  “Your devotion.”

  Delusional, he had to be. She tried to squirm away, but the couch arm and his weight prevented much movement. Nick and Adam would come for her, she was sure of it. She just needed to delay whatever this brute had on his mind. “Um, just how—” do you want my devotion? Wrong question.

  His eyes narrowed. “Enough talk. They’ll be tracking us. I want you mine by the time they get here.”

  Ice sheeted her veins. Her heart lurched then collapsed as fear burrowed into it. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Son-of-a-bitch! “Don’t expect any help from me,” she snarled.

  He smiled and a shot of revulsion coiled through her stomach. God help her, he really intended to force her. She tensed as he dragged her close, trapping her hands against the unyielding wall of his chest. She tried to twist, raise a knee, he laughed. One of his hands clamped a brutal grip on her hip, imprisoning her against him. The other took possession of the back of her head.

  Strong, cruel fingers restrained her attempts to move. She managed to twist enough to avoid his lips as they sought hers. The ripple of his laughter transferred from his chest to hers. He kissed the corner of her mouth with surprising gentleness, slicked his tongue-tip across the seam of her desperately clamped mouth. Disgust welled in potent rage and she writhed and fought with every muscle in her body.

  “How long are you going to keep that up?” he murmured into her ear as he imprisoned her tighter.

  As long as I have to.

  A strident, continuous double beeping infiltrated the air like an alarm. Tension drilled from him to her.

  “Fuck,” he snarled. “They’re quick.”

  The hand at her hip shifted to her bikini briefs and ripped them apart. He thrust a leg behind hers and rolled. She crashed to the floor with him above. The breathed exploded from her lungs. Her head thudded into hard tiles, stars sparked before her eyes and for a moment she lost track of reality. His hips lifted as he wrenched his lower clothing away.

  “No!” she screamed and tried to worm away in a frenzy of writhing.

  Still trapped between their bodies, she pushed her hands desper
ately against his chest, strained for the freedom to claw at his face, his eyes, anything to terminate this monstrous atrocity. His erection scalded her naked thigh. His chest pushed into her, immobilized her struggles with sheer weight and strength. Horror scudded through her. His hand brushed her thigh as he reached to guide himself into her. She clenched her inner muscles and arched her pelvis down, frantic to deny him entry. The head of his erection slid along her inner thigh then cold air slithered across her skin, tripped up her thoughts. His imprisoning weight disappeared.

  She clamped her legs shut. A meaty thud slid into her ears and she opened her terrified eyes. Nick’s bare chest and face filled her vision as he kneeled by her side, every line of his big, taut body ripped into stark definition. Terror filled his eyes as he gazed down at her. One of his hands lifted, made to cup the curve of her cheek, then fell back. He swallowed. Sounds from a fight echoed in a vast room.

  “Sarah, honey, did he . . .?”

  Dread filled his voice. His rigid posture proclaimed how hesitant he was to touch her. She stared at him, accepted he wasn’t a vision when a thin blade sliced the tie wrap securing her hands. Gut-wrenching relief ripped a hole in her soul. She opened her arms, lunged up towards him and devoured the security of his gentle embrace.

  “No, he didn’t.” She sobbed into the warm, comforting strength of his shoulder and clung as close as possible to him. “Is Adam alright?” She gulped for air. “Where is he? He was shot and then that . . . that bastard hit him with something.”

  “Adam’s okay,” Nick soothed, his hand smoothing down her hair and back. “Shhh.”

  A huge sob strangled her breath and she pulled back. “You were wounded!”

  “I’m fine, Adam’s fine. Right now he’s probably murdering that son-of-a-bitch with his bare hands.”

  Good.

  “Is she injured?”

  Her anxiety climbed at the unknown male voice, highlighting the exposed vulnerability of her near-naked body. Nick cradled her closer.

  “Get out,” he growled over his shoulder.

  She gripped Nick’s huge bicep as fear tried to wrest her precarious control. He stood with her clasped to his chest and kept her there even when she’d found her feet.

  “Here,” a female voice offered and a slip of material fluttered by his side. He grabbed the sarong and wrapped the silky material around her bared body.

  She peered around Nick, desperately seeking Adam. Movement in a vast, sparsely furnished room lit by glittering chandeliers dragged her attention to Adam gripping Barclese in a brutal hold. She gasped at the damage inflicted on Theron Barclese. Blood ran from his nose, the veins of one eye seemed ruptured, his mouth hung open and red marks bruised his face. Adam appeared to have barely a scratch, his fluid movements implying a lack of injury. Relief for his wellbeing washed through her on a grateful sigh. An unknown man stood watching the fight, a detached expression on his exotic face.

  “I think you’ve subdued him enough, Adam,” the man said.

  The thrashing continued unabated.

  “Do you really want your girlfriend to witness you murder a man?”

  Adam froze, one hand gripped Barclese’s throat, his thumb dug deep into the trachea, the other hand remained raised, ready to deliver a blow. His entire body shook. His head turned, his eyes sought hers and for an unguarded instant, hatred and loathing burned with clear and frightening intensity on his face.

  She realized he hadn’t been punishing the man—he’d been torturing him. Extreme satisfaction burned in her chest, then shock and disgust at her own reaction obliterated the emotion.

  “Theron Barclese,” the unknown man spoke, “you are charged with abduction and attempted illegal bonding.”

  A shiver cascaded through her body. Cold seeped from her bones in paralysing waves. A bewildering sense of displacement, of being lost, of having been dragged from the path of her life, clouded her mind. Then Nick’s warmth surrounded her. He lifted her in his arms and gathered her close to the solid haven of his chest.

  “We’ll get you out of here, angel.” Adam hovered close by Nick’s shoulder. He didn’t touch her, didn’t lay a hand on her and she almost cried at being denied the physical comfort she so desperately craved from him. She burrowed further into Nick’s security.

  “Marnia and Kane are with the Foundation,” Nick murmured. “Marnia is a medic. Sarah, will you let her examine you?”

  “Marnia,” Kane said, “take them to the Combi while my team comes in for Barclese. Miss Rasmussen does not need to be surrounded by more unfamiliar men.”

  “Right,” the woman flashed a glance at Nick. “Come on.”

  A mobile rang and the woman—Marnia—answered it. “Yes, yes she is . . . Yes, we have apprehended him . . . No, he does not appear to have done so, but I won’t know with certainty until I examine her . . . Psychologically traumatized, but no apparent physical injuries . . . They seem to be . . . As you command.”

  Marnia turned and offered her a gentle smile. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

  “Where are we going?” Adam demanded.

  The woman sighed then glanced at Nick and Adam before returning her gaze to her. “Headquarters. There are things of which we need to inform Sarah.”

  Chapter 7

  A chill slid down Nick’s back and he tightened his hold on Sarah. No way would he let her be taken from them.

  “We should take her home,” Adam argued. “Marnia can tend to Sarah there.”

  “You’re not thinking straight,” Kane said. “That weapon’s signature could have alerted”—his eyes flickered to the precious woman in his arms then back to Adam—“others to our position. We’ll take her where she will be safe.”

  Nick compressed his lips. There were still so many things he and Adam needed to explain to Sarah, things that would not put them in a good light coming from another source, but he would not jeopardise her health or care.

  Sarah shivered in his arms and she pressed into his chest, as though afraid any loss of contact would plunge her into further horror. He shifted her weight a little, clutched her closer to his heart and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. The soft tresses of her hair caressed his bare shoulder as she lifted her gaze to him.

  “What’s he talking about, Nick?” Her low voice trembled on a shallow breath, the confusion and anxious vulnerability in her eyes caught at him. She may as well have reached into his chest and wrung his heart.

  The desire to extract furious, fist-pounding, lethal retribution from the man who had stolen their woman and brutalised her burned in his veins like acid. He consciously relaxed muscles bunching with possessive ferocity and eased his embrace.

  “We’re going to take you someplace safe. We’ll let Paul know where you are. Okay?”

  Protective satisfaction burned through him as her nod conferred her trust in him and Adam. He silently vowed she would never be in such a perilous position again—even if they had to chain her to them.

  Adam climbed into the back of the Combi and exchanged a look with Nick that shared a wealth of unspoken information. Guilt clawed his gut as Sarah passively allowed Nick to fasten the lap sash then draw her against his side. Her head nestled into his shoulder and her eyes closed. Pain lowered his own lids at the remembered look of horrified shock and distaste that etched her face as she gazed at him with a half-murdered man in his grip.

  He fisted his bloodied hands on his thighs and denied himself the solace of offering her comfort. He didn’t dare touch her, couldn’t bear to see her flinch from him and certainly had no desire to taint her with Barclese’s blood.

  Fuck! She’s been traumatized enough without having been exposed to more violence.

  He forced a controlled exhalation of frustrated regret and self-aimed anger through his nose. He and Nick had acted on instinc
t when they’d charged into that God-forsaken house. He’d barely noticed the half-dozen security guards they’d quickly overwhelmed. With one hand Nick had ripped that bastard off her and thrown him savagely against a wall. Then he, Adam, had allowed himself the pleasure of handing out the punishment they both so dearly wished to deliver. The tear in his heart ripped a little further as he pondered the damage done to the relationship between the three of them.

  Sarah tried to suppress the shudders that rippled through her and burrowed further into Nick’s warm security. Recollections buzzed through her mind like a swarm of chaotic bees. Laser fire, Nick’s grunt as he was shot, the repulsive imprisonment of a heavy body, Adam’s limp form as he slumped over the car seat, the warm spread of pleasure as the three of them swam together, the crippling fear of forceful domination. On and on they churned with nauseating swiftness. Yet always her mind returned to bruising hands and the terrifying proximity of brutal penetration. She wished she could cry, flush the horror from her system, but her body refused, contained the emotions as though afraid if she let go, she’d break.

  “We’re here, honey.”

  She lifted her head and gazed about. They drove through high, wrought iron gates and into the forecourt of a sprawling, multi-storied mansion. Glossy green leaves of a large hedge of murraya contrasted against the cream plaster of the building. Sunlight dimmed then disappeared as they entered and drove down into a large subterranean garage. A door closed behind them.

  The vehicle came to a halt and Adam clambered out into the artificially lit garage. He did not turn to offer her aid and her battered emotions suffered another blow. Hurt and bereft she leaned into Nick when he gathered her close and they followed the others into the building. Despite his close warmth another shiver wracked through her.