Evergreen Resort and Casino, Queensland, Australia
Nick Leandros slid his chips forward with a satisfied smile. The table was ready for his plunder and the green felt beneath his fingers was smooth as the skin of an eager mistress. The game was blackjack, and some said it all came down to luck. But Nick knew it was a numbers game.
The casino played with a six-deck shoe, which meant that, by counting cards, Nick had a slight advantage over the house. He was the big player. His job was to join the game when the count was high and rake in the cash.
He didnât even glance at his partner. Nick just tucked his expensive sunglasses into his shirt, winked at the pretty redhead at the end of the table and doubled down. You see, it was signaling that gave card counters away, and Nick didnât have that problem because the two other members of his team were each a part of him.
Literally, a part of him.
His goateed teammate, who was stubbornly betting the minimum, was another incarnation of Nickâan incarnation that sometimes called himself Vic, could count for himself and refused to shave for days at a time. But he was the same man, or at least a third of him, so they worked perfectly in tandem and didnât need a signal to tell each other when the table was hot. The third teammateâthe one with the leonine mane of dark hair who occasionally called himself Rickâsat across the smoke-filled casino wary as a hunter on the prowl. He had preternatural instincts about when security was getting twitchy. And Nick didnât even need to glance in his direction to know that two big, beefy guys with radios were making their way toward Nickâs table; he could see it through Rickâs eyes.
Card counting wasnât illegal but if security caught him thereâd be trouble. So Nick gathered his winnings and swiped a pen with the Evergreen logo. Not exactly an effective defensive weapon, but itâd have to do. It wasnât that Nick was particularly afraid of casino security; sure, they might break his legs, but Nick had been wounded before. His real worry was that they might put his face into a database and alert the authorities. And if they figured out who he really wasâwhat he really wasâtheyâd lock Nick up for good.
Rick and Vic fled toward the botanical gardens where guests went to escape the jingling of chips and ringing slot machines.
Security was already about halfway across the floor, so Nick stood up and followed his partners in crime.
As the doors of the glorified greenhouse closed behind him, Nick found himself awash in green foliage and serene music.
It was a geodesic domeâa nature enclosure and a wonder to tourists. But Nick knew what it was like to be in a real forest. He had met her in the wilderness whereas this was just a man-made mimic.
He rounded a cluster of bushes and found Vic right away. Urgently grasping his arm, Nick pulled the recalcitrant body into his own. Theyâd merged a thousand times before, but it seemed to get more painful every time. His sinews threaded together and muscles strained as if under a thousand-pound weight. By the time both bodies had become one, sweat pooled between his shoulder blades and glued his expensive dress shirt to his back, whereas Vicâs clothes lay in shreds by his feet.
There was no time to catch his breath. Nickâs more savage third was crouched low behind the fanned trunk of a buttress tree. He pounced, grabbing Nickâs ankle and they both nearly went down with the force of it. It felt like bones crushing as they melded together as a complete whole.
Gasping in pain, Nick tried to regain control. It was easier now that he was one man, not three. But security was still after him and the crackle of their radios cut through the gardenâs tranquility.
Looking for the nearest exit, Nick stumbled into an open expanse of cultivated flowers. There was nowhere to hide.
Bad fucking luck.
In moments, security would find him, and then itâd be all over. All over. Is it any wonder that he imagined hearing her voice. He wanted to hear her sweet whisper just behind his ear, as it had been the first time he met her.
âLieutenant.â
It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. He almost dared not turn around. But when he did, there she was.
Was that figment of his war-fevered imagination actually standing in front of him? Could she be real?
Nuristan Province, Afghanistan, five years earlier
It was an autumn morning and the moon was still up. In the high leaves of a walnut tree, Dessa caressed the graceful branches. The limbs were covered in gray bark, a smooth skin over the treeâs lifeblood, which pounded in a secret rhythm only she could hear; this was the dryadsâ heart tree and its pulse was just one pace behind her own.
Dew drops glistened on the leaves like perspiration on the skin of a fevered lover. With a sensuous tongue, Dessa reached out to lap at the sweet water, and she felt the tree shiver with appreciation for her tenderness. After all, the walnut tree was straining, laboring, to give birth to the ripening nuts that weighted down its branches in clusters of fat green orbs. Soon the husks would turn brown, the fruit would fall and, if a man were to happen by and taste the sweet walnuts, Dessa might finally have a mate of her own.
