“I’m glad you see it that way.” I reached for the condom and tore open the foil packet.
I rolled Sunny onto her back and knelt between her legs.
“Kyle?”
“If you remember, I told you I got some fantasies of my own.” I slid the condom over my still-hard cock.
She smiled, her sleepy expression replaced by curiosity. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” I covered her body with mine, supporting my weight on my forearms as I gazed down at her face.
Her eyes widened, and I saw the instant she remembered what I’d promised to do.
“You good?” I asked. If she told me she was too tired or too sore, I’d stop.
Sunny nodded. “I’m perfect, remember?”
She truly was. I laughed softly, my shoulders shaking. “Sunny, where have you been all my life?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s easy. Right next door. Waiting for you to notice me.”
“You got my full attention now,” I said.
Beneath me, she arched her hips. I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance. She locked her ankles behind my back. With one smooth thrust, I slid all the way home. Home.
Sunny lifted her head, seeking my mouth. Instead of kissing me, she sank her teeth into my lower lip. Releasing my lip, she met my startled gaze, her expression full of challenge. “I believe, Kyle Chamberlain, that you promised to wreck me.”
What’s a guy to do?
I wrecked her.
TWENTY-NINE
Sunny
“No.” I gawked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Just no.”
Standing behind me, Rachel gave my shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “C’mon. It’s not that bad. Bet Kyle will like it. Let’s show him.” She took my hand and tugged me out of the bathroom into the library, where Kyle, Marcus, Justin, and J.R. lounged against tables, waiting for me to get ready.
Silence greeted my arrival.
“Well, what do you think?” Rachel asked brightly.
Kyle scratched his head, frowning.
J.R. waved his hand at the platinum-blond wig. Bouncy curls cascaded down my back, past my butt, halfway to my knees “I suppose if it’s part of a sexy Lady Godiva costume, it would be all right. The long hair would cover all her bits, you know...” His voice trailed off and he blushed.
Laughter burst from Marcus and Justin.
I stomped back into the bathroom, followed by a giggling Rachel.
“Now that you’ve had your fun, do you have any serious contenders?” I asked, yanking the offending wig off my head.
We tried a sleek black bob and a layered auburn shag. Both earned a resounding no. If I wanted to call attention to myself with hair that looked unnatural against my complexion, they might work, but blending into the crowd was the point.
“Close your eyes,” Rachel ordered.
Grumbling, I complied. She attached another wig to my head.
“Open up.”
I did. Leaning forward, I studied my reflection. Loose beach waves—dark blond hair with caramel highlights—skimmed my shoulders. Longer and lighter than my real hair, it changed my look without screaming fake. “Not bad,” I said, twisting my head back and forth, checking the look from different angles.
“Yeah, this was my number one choice,” Rachel confessed.
“Then why did you have me put on that platinum thing?”
She shrugged. “Havoc’s heading straight into enemy territory. We’re all on edge. I thought if I could make the boys laugh, it might cut the tension for a minute.”
I touched her arm. “Are you trying to tell me that behind all that snark and attitude beats a heart of gold?”
“Shut up.” Rachel made a face. “I’m a scary badass and don’t you forget it.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I laughed, then sobered. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Sure, if I can.”
I undid the clasp on my gold charm bracelet. “This belonged to my grandma. Ask Mrs. B. to hold onto it for me. And if anything goes wrong, tell her that I’d like her to give it to Ever someday.”
“Oh, shit.” Rachel screwed up her face and took the bracelet. “Don’t jinx it. Marcus knows what he’s doing. He’ll get you in and out, and you’re going to bring Finn back home.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But just in case...”
“Okay.” Rachel shoved the bracelet into her pocket. “I promise.”
We walked back into the library. Rachel, Marcus, and Justin huddled together, deep in a last-minute conversation while the rest of us loaded backpacks and weapons into the trunk of an older, blue, four-door muscle car.
Marcus and Justin jogged out of the building.
“J.R., sit up front with me,” Marcus said. “Before we drop you off in Baker City, we need to go over our plans one more time.”
Kyle, Justin, and I piled into the back of the car. Thankfully, three adults fit comfortably on the seat, although I took pity on the men and offered to sit in the middle. Ninety minutes after we left Pendleton, we pulled into the parking lot of the Baker City National Guard Armory. J.R. radioed his top people to assemble for a meeting with Marcus. An hour later, we were on the road again.
“How well do you know the Nampa Boys?” Marcus asked as we flew east on I-84.
“I never met any of them,” Kyle said. “Except maybe the second-in-command, Robbie. He came at us swearing and waving a gun, and the Allsops shot him down before he got close.”
“Fuckers,” Marcus said. “Killed him before you could compare stories and then took credit for rescuing you.”
“I’ve met David, the head of the Nampa Boys, and a few of their scavengers,” I said. “I have no idea if any of them survived the Allsops’ attack on their headquarters.”
“You know the location of their headquarters in Nampa?” Marcus asked.
“Yes. I went there once with Sara and Gavin. They set up shop at a local skating rink.”
“Allsops probably left it a burned-out hull,” Marcus said. “But if anyone from their organization survived, I want to talk to them. Their HQ might be a good place to start looking.”
“Are you thinking of allying with the Nampa Boys?” Kyle asked.
“If anybody wants payback against the Allsops, it’s them,” Marcus said. “Definitely be worthwhile to approach them. See if they have any interest in working together.”
A little before one in the afternoon, we exited the freeway and drove to the skating rink. Bullet holes pockmarked the stone-and-stucco facade, and the front doors had been blasted off their hinges. Three torched cars sat in the parking lot.
“Doesn’t look good, boss,” Justin said in a low voice.
“Nope,” Marcus agreed.
The men all drew their weapons as we climbed out of the car and cautiously approached the entrance. Marcus and Justin led the way. I followed, with Kyle bringing up the rear. Marcus and Justin swept flashlight beams over the skating rink, which—like the hospital in Boise and the armory in Baker City—had once been transformed into a survivors central. Folding chairs and tables littered the floor, probably overturned during the mad scramble when the Allsops hit the place. Empty metal shelving units lined a wall. Splotches of dried blood stained the hardwood floor, and more bullet holes pitted the walls. I shuddered, imagining the attack.
Marcus and Justin stalked through the snack bar, the game room, and the party room, while Kyle and I circled around past the lockers and restrooms. Evidence of a firefight, of death and destruction, surrounded us on every side, but there was no sign of life in the place.
Dejected, we walked outside, blinking against the bright afternoon sunlight. Across the street from the skating rink, a dumpster hugged the wall of a tire store. A flash of movement caught my eye.
“I think there’s somebody hiding behind that dumpster,” I said in a low voice.
“Play it cool,” Marcus ordered. We stood next to our car as if engaged in conversation,
but ready to take cover if anybody opened fire. A minute later, a face peeked out from the side of the dumpster, the familiar blue baseball cap on their head.
“A Nampa Boy,” Kyle whispered.
THIRTY
Kyle
“Gotta take a piss,” Marcus announced in a loud voice. “Gimme a minute.” He ambled toward the side of the building. Once out of sight of the dumpster, he darted across the street, then headed toward the back of the tire store. A minute later, the Nampa Boy was face-down on the asphalt, Marcus’s knee on his back. We jogged across the street and formed a circle around Marcus and his prisoner.
Marcus locked a hand around the Nampa Boy’s wrists and pulled him into a seated position. During their brief scuffle, the cap had been knocked from the boy’s head. Sunny gasped. The person glaring defiantly at us couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.
“I radioed in a report.” The kid tilted his head at a black device on the ground next to the dumpster. “If you’re smart, you’ll get out of here before my guys show up.” The words were brave, but his voice quivered.
“Nah. I think we’ll wait and meet the guys,” Marcus said easily.
I crouched down next to the boy. “Do you know who attacked your headquarters?”
“Yeah.” The boy sat upright, anger twisting his features. “It was the Allsops. They tried to make us think it was the Haven, but it was them. They killed a whole lot of people. They killed old ladies. Bunch of fucking pussies.”
“Language,” Justin said. Old habits must die hard in a former high school teacher.
“Sorry,” the kid mumbled.
Sunny knelt next to me and gave the boy her most engaging smile, the one that always worked miracles on crabby neighbors. “My name’s Sunny. I used to work for the Haven. These are my friends. What’s your name?”
He hesitated. “Ethan.”
“If you know about the Allsops, Ethan, you know that they drive around in black SUVs and they wear gray T-shirts.” She pointed to our bright blue muscle car.
His gaze followed her finger. He whistled. “Sweet ride.”
“Yeah, it is. And look at us,” Sunny said. “We aren’t wearing gray tees. We aren’t working for the Allsops. We’re the good guys.”
“The good guys?” He snorted. “Tell that to David. See if he buys it.”
Finally, some good news. David was alive. Marcus and I exchanged a glance.
“We want to talk to David,” she said. “That’s why we’re here.” Ethan shrugged, not losing his petulant expression.
A red car careened around the corner, its tires squealing. Marcus yanked Ethan to his feet as we all stood to face the approaching vehicle. With one hand, Marcus secured Ethan’s wrists, with the other, he held a pistol. Justin and I drew our weapons, too.
The red car braked hard. Doors flew open and three men jumped out. For half a minute no one said a word and no one moved. We were inside a moment in time, a turning point when things could either go off the rails or somehow work out for the best.
“You okay, Ethan?” a man called.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“David,” Sunny called, stepping forward and addressing the leader of the group. Tall and lean, he was barely out of his teens. “We’ve met. My name’s Sunny. I worked with Sara and Gavin at the Haven.”
He squinted, studying her from a distance. “You don’t look familiar.”
Sunny touched her hair. “I’m wearing a disguise. A wig. My friends and I are going into Boise, and I don’t want the Allsops to recognize me.”
“Why are you going into Boise?” he asked. “Allsop and his goons are running the place.”
Marcus released Ethan. “Go on, kid.”
Ethan scrambled back to his friends. David grabbed his shoulders and looked the boy up and down, probably searching for signs of injuries. “Get in the car,” he told the boy before turning his attention back to us.
“My name is Marcus Havoc,” the leader of the resistance said. “You may have heard of me.”
David rubbed a jaw speckled with skimpy whiskers, his expression thoughtful. “We’ve heard stories about a dude named Marcus Havoc taking over in Pendleton, but we’ve had to deal with so much shit lately that we haven’t given the stories much thought.”
“No? Well, think about this. Elliot Allsop is trying to carve out a personal kingdom in the northwest, a place where his rule is law, and he lives like a king. He’ll destroy anybody who gets in his way.”
“No news there,” David said, scowling. “He tried to crush us like a bug.”
“My people are going to stop him from creating his little kingdom. Rebuild the right way, with a new government that protects the constitution and civil rights. Simple as that,” Marcus said. “Survivors are pouring into Pendleton. I have soldiers and weapons. Baker City just signed on to join our cause. The Tri-cities, Walla Walla, and La Grande, they’ve signed on, too.”
“If you’re Allsop’s number one enemy, why are you sneaking into Boise?” David scoffed. “Why risk placing yourself in his hands? He’s a shoot first and ask questions later kind of man.”
“He took one of my men, and I aim to get him back. Maybe do a little damage while I’m in town.”
“So what do you want from me?” David asked, throwing his hands in the air. “He hit us hard less than a week ago, took out a third of my crew. I want to go after the fucker, I really do, but I’m in no position to attack Allsop. Not yet. And I got folks counting on me to take care of them.”
Marcus took one step toward David. “I’m not asking you to come along on our rescue mission. We got that covered. I’m here to invite the Nampa Boys to join our cause, to help us stop Allsop from making life hell for good people who are just trying to get by after the pandemic.”
David held up a hand, then huddled with his two companions, glancing back over his shoulder at Marcus once or twice as they quietly spoke. After a few minutes, he turned back to us. “What does that mean exactly? Join your cause?”
“Baker City is refusing to knuckle under to Allsop’s demands. They’re evacuating the town—temporarily—and are withdrawing to Pendleton. Those who can fight are joining our army. Those who can’t will stay safe inside our defense perimeter. You could do the same.”
“They’re abandoning their city?” David asked.
“They’ve got no choice. There aren’t enough survivors in Baker City to make a stand against Allsop.”
“Baker City is a small town,” David conceded. “We had hundreds of thousands of people in Nampa, Meridian, and Caldwell before the flu, almost as many as Boise.”
“You plan to stand your ground and fight Allsop here?” Marcus asked.
David sighed, kicking at the asphalt. “A few days ago we had a run-in with a couple of Allsop’s men. My boys managed to take out one of his guys. The next day, those damned black SUVs hit the streets in our towns, shooting everybody they came across. They plastered the town with posters warning that for every Allsop man the Nampa Boys kill, they’ll shoot twenty of our people.”
“Like what the Nazis did in occupied Europe,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust. “Murdering civilians as retribution. That’s a powerful deterrent.”
“After the pandemic, we found almost three hundred survivors in our communities,” David said. “Providing them with food and water was hard enough before the Allsops came along. Now it’s almost impossible. And the Allsops are going door-to-door searching for people, making promises, making threats. Folks are scared and don’t know what to believe. My crew wants to fight, but not if it means putting the people who count on us in the Allsops’ crosshairs.”
“Would you consider evacuating your people to Pendleton and having the Nampa Boys join our army?” Marcus asked.
“How the hell would you evacuate close to three hundred people? Assuming they want to go and not take their chances with Allsop?” David asked. “The logistics would be a nightmare. People would need some warning to be ready, but
we’d have to make sure that the Allsops didn’t catch wind of it. How’d we do it? Cars? Buses. How many people fit into a city bus or school bus?”
“About fifty,” Justin answered.
“We’re talking six buses. How much fuel would that take? Sneaking all those people out of town under the Allsops’ noses. Shit, how would it be possible?”
“If you want to make it happen, we’ll find a way,” Havoc said.
David shoved both hands through his hair. He blew out a slow breath. “I gotta be honest with you, Havoc. If you evacuated our civilians, me and some of my boys would stay behind to fight. Guerilla warfare shit. Ambushes. Bombs. Hit-and-run attacks. We’d make them bleed. You’d be taking on the responsibility for civilians and be getting nothing in return.”
“We’re here to open a dialogue,” Marcus said. “We don’t need to decide anything today. Talk to your people. Consider your options. It’s only going to get worse here as Allsop consolidates his hold over the territory.”
David crossed the distance between them and extended his hand. “I will. I’ll send a message to Pendleton when we’re ready to talk.”
They shook hands, an incongruous pair. One, an experienced soldier in his mid-thirties, battle-hardened, muscle-bound. The other, a lanky young man sporting a wispy mustache. Both carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. Both were determined to do right by their people.
David and his men climbed back into their car. As they drove away, Ethan pressed his face against a window and waved. Sunny waved back.
Justin whistled. “David’s only a couple of years older than my students, and he held the Nampa Boys together. He’s tough, but with Allsop’s resources, the bastard will chew him up and spit him out.”
Marcus planted his hands on his hips, his eyes tracking the retreating car. “The world needs men like him. Got to hope he reaches out.” The car disappeared around a corner. Marcus turned back to us. “Let’s go get Finn.”
Bedlam Page 24
