With no time to waste, Bane rushed outside to unhook the RV, just as the previous owner had instructed him. Then he plopped into the driver’s seat, programmed the GPS, also as taught, then buckled in and keyed the engine. Minutes later they were on the road, heading to Roswell, New Mexico, no longer stationary targets for Micah.

NOLA AWOKE ALONE. No, not true. She had her memories. Bane, making sweet love to her. Bane, all but begging her to save his wife. Bane, holding her while she sobbed about her murdered parents.

He was a wonderful man, with a tragic past, a big heart and a smoking body—literally! But...

Our romantic relationship is over. She wouldn’t sleep with a man who would move heaven, Earth and Adwaeweth to resurrect his dead wife. Lucky, lucky Meredith. His warrior woman. The female able to fight at his side. How could Nola compete?

I wanted to mend his heart, and in the process, I broke my own. Grief scalded her.

She drew in a big shuddering breath and fixed her thoughts on the RV. Dappled sunlight slipped through a crack in the curtains, revealing a ransacked bedroom. Four perfect claw marks marred the headboard. Clothes were scattered over the floor and splattered with blood.

The urge to curl into a ball and throw the best pity party in town struck her. Instead of attending, Nola forced herself to stand to shaky legs and prowl about. A plethora of weapons covered the kitchen table. Guns, knives, a crossbow. Bane must have gathered more while she slept. No doubt he was seeing to their defenses even now.

Worried for him, she stalked to the bathroom to brush her teeth, shower and dress in a pink T-shirt and skinny jeans. “This was a new day,” she told her reflection. She wasn’t in the midst of a painful flare and she wasn’t battling withdrawal. Like Bane, she had goals. When Bane trained her, she wanted to learn the dirtiest, most sinister moves he knew. I will be like a virus. I’ll sneak up on her, rip through her body and leave destruction in my wake. She’ll never know what hit her.

Before, Nola hadn’t looked forward to Aveline’s murder. Now?

Die badly, bitch.

Nola returned to the living room, rested a knee on the couch and leaned forward to peer out the slats in the window. She frowned. Blinked. Shook her head. She’d fallen asleep in an RV park, but she’d woken up in a dirt-filled flatland. Where were they, and why had Bane brought them here?

She took a photo with her cell phone, just in case Zion’s tracking skills didn’t elicit the desired results.

Hinges wailed as the door swung open. A hoodie-wearing Bane stomped into the RV. He wore the goggles and a leather jacket, too, but removed and tossed both on the couch. The leathers he kept on.