The year is 2095. The Americas Revolution has ended. And Cyan Sebastian—the last blue-eyed, Caucasian woman known to exist in the Western hemisphere—is on the run. Her safe and sequestered life ripped apart, she is running with a man who has sworn to protect her. A man who once hunted her for the bounty she would fetch. The man whom days before, killed her father.
Devin McCrae is that man. Having tracked Cyan and her family for years, Devin never dreams her father will one day drop her in his lap, with a proposition he cannot refuse. He never imagines that instead of hunting Cyan for the bounty on her head, he will become her protector to the end, and safeguard her from all the others.
Most of all, he never expects he will fall for her. If ever there was a woman who is hands off—Cyan Sebastian is that woman. Turns out though, keeping her hands off him, is the bigger problem. And it’s a deadly one, at that.
2095. Somewhere east of the Mississippi River
The crack of a laser rifle ricocheting off rock woke him. The shot reverberated inside the mineshaft like a soundwave cutting though water—and warped through his brain with mind-altering slow motion. Devin McCrae’s instincts raced into survive and protect mode. A few years ago ‘survive and protect’ meant he did what had to be done to save his ass. Today, it meant saving hers.
Jerking to a standing position, his body sped into action. He was dressed within two seconds and had leapt across the small dark room shouting her name.
But she was already up and moving. Dazed, that deer-in-the-headlight look she always had when they had to move quickly. Dammit, he thought they’d be able to stay put for a few days. Wrong.
Get her out of here. Get Blue out!
“Fuck.” Devin McCrae swore through his teeth and huffed out a quick breath. Scattered thoughts flew about inside his head, like an angry bee caught in a bell jar. How did they find her? Them? Didn’t matter. They did. Got to move. Now!
Too tired. Spent. Too much running.
Thought they were safe.
Finally. Thought they were safe.
More shots inside the mineshaft. Voices. Chaco? Fending them off? “Come on you fucking bastards.” Yes. Chaco, taunting them.
“Get a move on, Blue.”
“Wha—?” She didn’t say anything more but flew into her clothes as well. By the time she had half-pulled on sweats and her shoes, he had checked his weapons and they were running.
To where, he had no clue. They exited the old mineshaft into the night, rain slicing into their faces. Thunder cracked above them, then another shot sparked to their rear, lighting up the dark. Their pursuers were not far behind.
Hell of a raging storm.
Pounding. No…footsteps. Behind them.
Who the hell fucked up? Impossible. All angles were covered. Where is Chaco?
Rain. Pelting. Stinging his face.
God. Damn. It.
Can’t see. What happened to the moon? What happened to the fucking moon!
No safe place.
He should have known better.
Devin ducked, shielded her, pushed her, slammed into the ground on top of her. Mud oozed around them. She grunted and he knew he’d knocked the wind out of her. She shook. Gasped. Slurped up sludge, likely.
He dragged her back to a standing position, the mud sucking at her limbs.
Dammit. He didn’t think they would shoot in the dark. Didn’t think they’d risk hitting her. Can’t believe they’d risk it. Was it the authorities? Or was it someone else?
Get up. Get up!
He pulled her along. Protesting. Scared.
Sobbing. Hell, he didn’t like the sobbing.
Difficult to run in the muck. Good. Harder for them, too. Sloppy tracks. The creek. Had to get there. A few more miles. All he needed.
Get to Betatakin. Soon. Her father’s words rang in his ears.
Tired of running.
She was, too. He knew that.
But it was her life.
Now his. Theirs.
And there was nothing either of them could do about it.