by Kylie Scott
“Oh, that’s nice,” she murmured.
She kissed the side of his face and the bristle of his short beard. Talk about an intriguing sensation. Having him go down on her sometime hit the top of her to-do list. Capable hands smoothed over her sides and slid around to cup her breasts. He teased her nipples, rolling them between his fingers—and damn, sensation shot straight through her spine. Her inner muscles grabbed at him and they both moaned. But she kept the pace lazy, indolent. A struggle, but well worth it. Fucking him like this had to be the most pleasant indulgence ever, shitty motel room and end of the world be damned.
“Does it feel like we’re in a relationship now?”
He chuckled. “Yes. It does.”
“Good. It does for me too.”
She sat up higher, her hands braced on the mattress beside his head. Nice to give him room to maneuver, but even nicer to add a swivel to her hips and gauge his reaction. His eyes widened and his cock bumped against something awful good inside her. Holy hell. Pleasure flooded her until her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. They needed to do that again and again.
Oh, yeah. Everything in her tightened in anticipation. They were right where they needed to be. She was right where she needed to be, with him.
She picked up the pace, taking him harder. Heavy breathing and the slap of flesh meeting flesh filled her ears. His hands seemed to be everywhere, all over her, working her into a fever. Fingers lightly pinched her nipples and stroked her thighs. Their bodies knew each other just fine, knew exactly how to get where they needed to go. Her movements grew frantic, faster and harder. He stared up at her and she stared right back, unwilling to break the spell.
Until she couldn’t see any longer.
Gray blurred her vision and her cunt clenched at him, waves of the most astonishing sensation washing through her. Hard hands gripped her hips, kept her moving when she faltered.
Her heart stopped; she could feel it. Her head fell forward and her body jerked atop him. Nick pounded into her, again and again, fingers sunk into her flesh. His cock surged into her and she felt him explode. The heat of his come filling her. He groaned and held her tightly, keeping her in place until he finished.
She lay down on his chest, or maybe she fell. The sweat on her back chilled as her body cooled. Her front stayed toasty warm, heated by him, but her spine was another matter. Pity she couldn’t bring herself to move.
Nick shifted a bit and drew up the covers. That was good. He reached over and pinched out the last candle on the bedside table.
His arms surrounded her.
Something moaned from out in the parking lot and she shivered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Fuck.” Nick pulled the pickup to the side of the road out of habit more than anything. It wasn’t like anyone would need to pass.
The front half of the huge plane sat embedded in a house, torn apart on impact. Bits of blackened metal were strewn across the road in front of them. Its ass was a burned-out husk in the garage across the road. Little remained of the actual brick and tile dwelling the Hercules had hit, the walls having caved in around the wreckage. The Humvee it had been carrying lay further down the street, smashed to smithereens. Bodies were scattered around, most of them too badly decomposed to be identifiable. But their equipment he recognized just fine. These boys had been Special Forces. The Minimis, M4s and other fancy toys confirmed it. All of it was the sort of stuff that would be useful for buying Roslyn’s way into Blackstone.
“There’s something you don’t see every day,” Roslyn said, gaping at the wreckage.
“This isn’t going to be pretty. But I’ll feel better if we have more weaponry.” He’d also feel better if she kept her lovely self in the car, but small chance of that.
Right on cue, the woman threw off her seatbelt. “Yeah, me too.”
Shit. He hated the idea of having her out in the open, but they needed those supplies. “Okay.”
A cold wind sent ice down his spine. Everything seemed calm, still. There were no signs of life nearby. Another perfect blue-sky day in a typical suburban street, near the edge of yet another country town.
Ros pushed her sunglasses further up her nose and held her gun in a good grip. She seemed to know what she was doing. Fuck, he hoped she did. In the years to come, her knowing how to handle herself would mean everything. She’d been having entirely too much fun when they’d been meant to be training last night. Not taking it seriously enough.
He handed her an empty backpack, care of the country store yesterday, and shouldered one himself. “Collect anything of use.”
“Got it.”
He gave her a hand up over the decimated concrete garden wall, helped her skirt a rose bush. The stupid thing was covered in more than flowers. Thorns cut into his hand when he held back a branch. It stung like shit.
“Damn it.” Blood dripped from a deep scratch on his palm and a slice across two fingers. It had gotten him good.
“Are you alright?” Ros leaned over and tugged on his arm, trying to get a look.
“I’m fine. You concentrate on you.”
“Hold still.” She ignored him and pulled a clean tissue out of a pocket, pressed it into his hand. Her forehead furrowed. “We should put some antiseptic cream on that.”
“Later. Come on.”
He’d never admit it, but she’d been right about his being confused. Discombob-whatever. Things had changed too fast. Twice today she’d turned and caught him frowning at her. She’d given him hell when he refused to talk about it.
Women … you didn’t need to discuss everything. Besides, things would sort themselves out soon enough. Blackstone was now only three or four hours’ drive away at most. He hadn’t changed direction. Instead, he’d slowed them down, dragging out the time he had left with her. Tomorrow he’d give her up. One more day wouldn’t hurt anything.
“Come here.” He nudged the remains of a soldier, skin sunken and gray. “You check they’re properly dead, then grab everything off their belts. Any packs strapped to their legs or chests.”
“This is so craven.”
“No, Ros. This is survival.”
Her mouth pursed, but she nodded in understanding. “Yeah. We should bury them.”
“You could spend the rest of your life burying the dead. Just concentrate on keeping yourself alive.”
Her gaze moved between him and the dead soldier, a heavy frown on her face. He almost asked her what she was thinking. And then he spied it, tucked beneath the corpse’s foot. “Here we go. This is an H&K Tactical. It’s got all the bells and whistles.” He dusted off the dirt and ejected the clip. It all looked to be intact and the cylinder didn’t appear to be jammed. “I’ll clean it tonight and then it’ll be yours. Grab any ammunition.”
Obviously curious, she stepped closer. “That’s a silencer, right?”
“Right, and this is a flashlight. But it’s the silencer that’s crucial. Noise attracts infected. These boys came prepared.”
The Hercules had been torn in half, leaving the internal floor sitting almost at ground level. It was easy enough to walk in. Several chairs were still intact. So were several passengers. The stink of rotting bodies messed with him, even after this long. Every time he thought he’d gotten used to it, a corpse came along that proved him wrong.
Wiring and other assorted shit hung down. The nose of the beast lay in semi-darkness ahead of them, cockpit door open.
“Stay back,” he said.
Carefully he picked his way toward the front, watching his footing. Shit had been tossed everywhere, smashed laptops and other equipment, parts of the plane’s interior. A decapitated body hung over the back of a chair. Interestingly enough, it wore a skirt and a suit jacket. Several of the other corpses still buckled into their seats wore ties.
“They were moving VIPs. Politicians, probably. Getting them west, away from everything.”
“I thought they’d have a bunker or something,” she said.
“Th
is might have been the back-up plan.”
Ros nodded and stopped beside the remains of a soldier sitting upright in a seat. She started stripping the equipment with her face screwed up. So long as she did it she could make as many funny looks as she liked. This was life now, scavenging for supplies amongst the dead. Doing what you had to, to survive. Dirty and horrible as it was, it wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.
A mass of cases and boxes sat piled at the front. It looked like medical gear and rations packs, probably dislodged during the crash. Supplies would have been packed in the rear. He picked his way around the debris, heading for the cockpit. Time to make sure they were totally alone. Inside the wreckage felt even colder than the air outside. He kept his gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
It was dark in the cockpit. The pilot was missing, the empty seat patchy with dark stains. Opposite, the co-pilot’s remains were still strapped into the seat. Its mouth stretched wide and teeth embedded in its shriveled forearm. Nothing much remained of its other arm. The white of bone gleamed in the light, almost intact with the exception of several fingers. Unable to escape, the infected had eaten its own flesh rather than starve.
It was a fucked-up thing, seriously disturbing. He turned away, his stomach pitching. His mouth tasted foul.
An infected lunged at him out of the shadows, catching him by surprise. He bounced off the metal hatch, jarring his shoulder and sending his gun flying.
“Fuck!”
The thing didn’t make a sound. Dirty fingers clawed at him, trying to reach him.
“Nick!”
“Stay back.” He stumbled back through the hatch, falling on his ass as he tried desperately to evade that hand. “Don’t you come up here.”
With a wheezing noise the zombie lunged for him, but got drawn up short. Something held it back. Its left arm stretched out behind it, tethered still to the belt. How the fuck had he not seen it? It had to have been crouched in the shadows. He’d been fucking careless. It growled at him silently, lips stretched wide showing shattered teeth and a gaping hole. The thing had eaten its own tongue.
“Nick, turn away,” shouted Ros.
“Shit. No! Don’t.”
She didn’t listen. Her first bullet punched through the metal a scant half a meter above him, sending sparks flying. His eardrums pounded. The woman was going to fucking kill him. Quickly, he hit the ground, covered his head with his hands. Because the second bullet … holy shit. The zombie dropped like a dead weight behind him. Everything fell quiet, all over. Nothing remained of where its heart had been. Nick’s pants and shoes were splattered with gore.
“It’s dead. You hit it,” he said, stunned.
“Are you hurt?” Roslyn rushed to him, almost tripping over in the process. She was shaking with adrenalin. How she’d managed to hit anything he did not know. He was just thankful she hadn’t hit him.
“No, I’m fine.” He climbed back to his feet. “You did good.”
“Thanks.”
“You really got him with that second shot.”
“The first was a warning shot,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You needed to cover your face.”
Huh. “That was on purpose?”
She nodded. “I was only five or six meters away. Unlikely I’d mess up and hit you at that range.”
“Oh,” he said. “Good job. But I could have handled it.”
She cocked her head. “It was about to fall on top of you, Nick. I couldn’t just do nothing.”
“No,” he said. “It couldn’t reach me. Its arm had caught on something. It was stuck. Come on, let’s gather this stuff and get out of here.”
He did a more thorough search of the wreck while Roslyn carried some of the boxes to the pickup. Hanging around after firing the shots wasn’t smart. But if they could just secure the food rations and medical supplies, round up the last of the weapons, they’d be doing well. She would be welcomed into Blackstone with open arms. No way could they say no with all this in the offering.
“Nick.” She stood staring at the cockpit hatch, eyes so wide he could only see white.
“What?”
“It moved.” She pointed at the dead infected, hand trembling.
“Ros, you killed it.”
“Yeah.” She stared at the thing, face deathly white in the low lighting. “I know, but it moved.”
She’d had a long day. Hell, he’d had a long day. They had enough supplies.
He cupped her face in his hands. Her wide eyes didn’t meet his, still trying to watch the infected.
“Let’s find some place safe for the night,” he suggested. “I’ll pick a fight with you and then we can have make-up sex. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She gave him a pissy look. “I’m serious. It moved.”
“Probably just air escaping.”
“No. I know what I saw.”
Everything was quiet outside. There was nothing to disguise the noise of a fast-approaching vehicle. His heart punched hard. Shit, no. Getting caught in the wreckage wasn’t good. Tires squealed as someone slammed on the brakes. Car doors were thrown open.
“Get down. Stay behind me,” he ordered. Ros pulled her gun from the back of her belt as he chambered a round in his own. They both knelt behind the rows of seats, cornered by the newcomers. Fuck no. This was bad. “I’m serious. Stay back.”
“Hellooo!” a male voice called from outside. “Anybody there?”
Someone else spoke. There were at least two of them. Two people he could handle. And he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both if they were a threat.
“Hey! Anyone in there?” The voice sounded oddly familiar. But it was the next one that turned him stone cold.
“Pete, you see anything?”
No reply. Of course there was no reply. Pete would be working off signals, keeping silent because silent was smarter. If nothing else, Pete could be a clever bastard. Clever and fucking nasty. Not the sort of person he wanted around Ros. Nick could only hope the pricks were still wary enough of him to make no sudden moves on her. Amongst their group he’d been one of the fastest on the draw and he had never backed down when it mattered. Even Emmet had never directly challenged him.
One time a member of their party had taken exception to him. Not long after New Year’s, when the plague had well and truly set in and the dead lay rotting on the ground. The bastard had come up on him from behind and attempted to slit his throat. Nick had gutted him and left him to die, eaten alive by infected. The screams had gone on and on. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d done it. And if it kept Roslyn safe he’d do it again in an instant.
“I need you to trust me,” Nick said, his mouth close to her ear. “No matter what, you trust me. Okay?”
“But …”
“Trust me, Ros. Please.”
Her pretty face scrunched up, but she nodded. “Alright.”
“Pete, that you?” he called out, his voice echoing through the space. “It’s Nick.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah, mate.”
“Fuck me. We thought you were dead.” Pete chuckled and they heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. “Man, this is great.”
Either they’d shoot him straight up, or he was in with a chance. Hard to tell which, with old friends like these. Justin and Pete had been thrown out of Blackstone at the same time as him, but they’d parted company straight away. More accurately, he’d taken off on them. They were trouble. They’d been in tight with Emmet, their former sergeant. Emmet had been a vicious prick. He’d been the one to decide that they’d do surveillance on Blackstone and attack it when the time was right. Round up the women and dispose of the rest. Emmet had been a fucking psychopath, and that was putting it lightly.
Nick rose to his feet, gun still in hand. If it came to a showdown, he couldn’t beat them both. Plus, Ros might get hurt in the crossfire. There had to be a better way to get out of this.
“Thought you guys were heading north,” Nick said for so
mething to say. He should have known they’d be hanging around Blackstone, still plotting revenge. Not as if they’d have anything else to live for. But he had Ros, and he should have been a fuckload more careful.
“We got bored.” Pete looked the same as always, big and mean. His smile didn’t set Nick at ease in the least. Justin was smaller, but definitely more dangerous. He watched Nick warily, gaze all over his weapon. Let them be careful. That would give Nick more time.
“Who you got with you?” Justin asked. Of course he did. There was no getting out of it.
Slowly, Ros rose to her feet. “Hi.”
“You got yourself a girl? Fuck me.” Pete grinned, gaze glued to the curves of Ros’s breasts. Nick wanted to gouge the fucker’s eyeballs out with his bare hands. Holding back was hard. Thank God she wore a few layers. Eventually, Pete shook his head and laughed. “I mean … sorry. It’s been a while since we’ve seen a woman. I’m Pete, this is Justin.”
“Roslyn,” she said with a brave smile.
Justin just stared at her, setting off every fucking alarm inside Nick’s head. He should have taken her straight to Blackstone. He shouldn’t have fucked around and delayed. She’d have been safe then. The chances of these two letting her get away without blood being shed were non-existent. But that was okay. He was more than happy to kill them for her. Shits like this didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. He just had to pick the time right, give her the best chance possible.
“Nice to meet you both,” she said chirpily. Her smile didn’t slip till the end.
Nick slung an arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer. Thankfully, she came, tucking herself in against him. “There’s a stack of food and stuff here.”
“Excellent,” said Pete. “We’ve got a case of rum.”
Nick smiled. “Let’s party.”
