Captive (The Survival Race) by Fawcett K.M

Author:Fawcett, K.M. [Fawcett, K.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781455528189
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2013-06-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-eight

Regan knew exactly where he’d start his search. The conduit system to his left, engulfed by steam and darkness, away from the stench of the main incinerator plant, and out of view of the control booths made a perfect hideout. Now if only Ferly Mor would stop talking to these damn workers and unleash him, he’d get on with his job.

The gray Hyborean reached down to unhook Duncan’s leash before his own. It’s about damn time.

“Where are ye headed, lad?” Duncan called from behind.

Regan didn’t answer. Why the hell did Ferly Mor bring Gramps anyway? The old guy had been pissing him off since they left HuBReC with his nonstop talk and nervous behavior.

It agitated him. And he hated being agitated.

If they hadn’t been with a master all day, he’d have decked the old man hours ago.

As Duncan followed him through the maze of steam pipes, Regan thought about slugging him here, but through the white fog, something caught his attention. An unsightly structure of wood, metal, and other scraps pieced together to form a little hovel. This hole could only be the work of human hands.

A twinge of disappointment shot through him. Surely it wouldn’t be this easy. He would have preferred a challenge. Something to sharpen his skills for the survival race.

He reached for his sword but felt only his thermal gladiator suit. Ferly Mor hadn’t provided him with any weapons. It didn’t matter. His hands were just as lethal.

He slunk to the shack and touched the doorknob.

“Shouldn’t ye knock first, Regan?” Duncan shouted.

Regan turned his annoyed glare on the old man. “Why would you give up our element of surprise?”

Duncan’s shifty eyes looked everywhere else but at him.

“Uh-huh. Thought so.”

“Just dinna hurt the lass.”

His pathetic pleading boiled Regan’s blood. Redirecting that energy, he forced down the door.

A thin, old man in ratty clothes jumped from his chair, a book in hand. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You see a girl? This tall,” Regan held up his hand to his chest, “long hair, pregnant, and a body that screams ‘fuck me.’”

The old guy looked from Regan to Duncan then back to Regan with distrustful eyes. “There’s no one here.” The man clutched his book in both hands. “I live alone.”

“She was with a man. Dark hair, weird green eyes, scrawny ex-gladiator. They escaped HuBReC in a garbage truck.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Nobody’s been through here.”

“Do you know who I am?” Most people trembled when he sneered. This guy didn’t. Dumbass.

“I know your type,” he said with disdain.

“Good. Then stand out of my way while I search this dump.” Regan strode through the tiny one-room shack taking in the knickknacks, books, decorative weapons, and kitchen knives hanging on the wall. “What’s behind this door?”

“Bathing room.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Regan ordered Duncan before entering the room.

“Have ye seen the lass?” Duncan asked. “Her name is Addy. Is she well?”

“What did these folks do to warrant a posse?”

Regan stepped back into the main room. “That’s not your concern.

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