by Paige Weaver
It was the soldier. The one I had almost had sex with in a bathroom at a drunken party. The one who had told me to get out of Austin after the EMP struck.
He was here. Now. In these woods.
And Cash was going to kill him.
“Get out of here, Cat!” Cash roared without looking up at me as he tightened his fingers around the man’s neck and held him down.
“No!” I cried out, staggering forward. The soldier’s face was turning red. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I couldn’t let Cash kill him.
Cash’s gaze snapped up to me as I rushed toward them. It was just the distraction the soldier needed.
He swung fast and hard, two quick jabs to Cash’s ribs then temple. It sent Cash toppling sideways, throwing him off the man.
As soon as he was free, the soldier scrambled to get Cash’s gun that lay a few feet away. But Cash was unstoppable. He reached back and slid a long knife out of his boot. Just as the man’s fingers closed around the shotgun, Cash grabbed him in a chokehold from behind and jerked him upright.
“Don’t move,” he growled, putting the tip of the knife under the soldier’s ribcage and his arm around the man’s windpipe.
The soldier looked at me and raised his hands, his face bloody and bruised.
I shifted my gaze away from him and glanced at Cash. There was blood in his hair. Lots of it. It seeped down his forehead and into his eyes. His lip was cut and his faded jeans were muddy.
“You’re hurt!” I shot forward, terrified that the wound on his head was serious, but when he raised his eyes and looked at me, I stopped. His gaze was ice cold. His expression was lethal.
“Leave,” he snapped, glaring at me across the distance.
“No,” I said with more stubbornness than I felt.
Cash shook his head, furious. The muscles in his arm bulged around the soldier’s neck. “Goddamn it, Cat! Leave!”
I stepped forward, fear forgotten, anger now taking over. “Over my dead body! Listen to me, Cash…”
“Cat, I swear to God—”
The soldier took advantage of our arguing, slamming his hand down on Cash’s wrist with enough power to break it. But Cash was ready. His arm let go of the man’s neck and the tip of his knife replaced it, pricking the skin below the soldier’s jaw.
I shot forward, panic exploding in me when I saw the drop of blood ooze from under the blade. “No! Stop, Cash! Stop! I know him! I know him!”
Cash’s eyes snapped up to mine, surprised.
“I know him,” I repeated, glancing down at the soldier as I edged closer. For a man who was bleeding and had a knife near his jugular, he looked pretty calm, but something was telling me it was a lie.
“How?” Cash blinked against the blood dripping in his eye.
My heart beat faster. I couldn’t tell him. God, I just couldn’t.
“How do you know him, Cat?” he demanded when I didn’t answer, his knife still against the man’s neck.
The soldier stared at me with cool composure.
“I just do,” I whispered, hoping I wouldn’t regret it.
“Shit,” Cash swore harshly. He removed the knife from the man’s neck and shoved him away.
I stumbled back as the soldier fell forward. He caught himself on the palms of his hands, crunching the dead leaves in front of him.
Slowly, he raised his head. Twinkling blue eyes stared back at me.
“It’s been a long time,” he said in a deep voice, his gaze running over my body with interest. “A really long time.”
Cash let out a low sound of warning, murder in his eyes. I could almost feel his anger growing, brewing, threatening to turn into a violent storm. Blood soaked his hair and ran down his face, giving him a wild, barbarian look. He needed medical attention but we had another problem.
Our new visitor.
I turned my gaze back to the soldier. What were the chances of running into him in the middle of the woods, years later after we met? I didn’t believe in coincidence or fate or any of that other bullshit so it seemed suspicious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and sticking my chin up, trying to show some bravery. Inside I was shaking. My heart was pounding. My stomach was twisted into a painful knot. I knew Cash had a shotgun in one hand and a knife in the other, but I wasn’t sure he could pull the trigger or throw the knife before the soldier could grab me and snap me in half.
He smirked as if he found my question funny then dusted off his hands and rose to his full height, towering well above me. With his eyes locked on mine, he rolled his shoulders and flexed his neck like an expert fighter ready to get back into the ring. Bones cracked and muscles bulged. Spreading his feet wide, he stretched out a hand, twisting his wrist one way then another as if he were testing it.
Glancing over his shoulder at Cash, his mouth quirked up. “Thanks for not killing me, man, but maybe you should have.”
Cash didn’t move a muscle. “Why?” he rumbled, his voice so low and cold that I felt a shiver run up my spine.
The soldier glanced back at me, his eyes roaming over my body slowly, his smirk growing. “Because I came for her.”
Chapter Fourteen
Cash
I didn’t have much honor left. Too much had happened since the war broke out and the land I loved became a graveyard of bodies and a battlefield of fighting. I learned quick that evil came in different forms. It could be terrorists shooting innocent people in the streets or men doing things that would turn a man’s stomach. It was all done in the name of survival. I had seen it all, participated in some of it. I knew trouble and knew when it was in front of me.
The man was trouble.
I was fighting the urge to swing my shotgun up and fill him full of buckshot. He wanted Cat? He sure as hell would have to go through me first. That wasn’t honor. That was the coldhearted part of me.
I tightened my fist around the handle of my knife. It felt like an extension of my hand. It was a hunting knife. Bone handle. Mirror finished blade. Deadly. Perfect. Something my dad never intended for me to use against a man when he gave it to me. But it had stopped the bastard. Who knows what he would have done to Cat if he had gotten free.
I kept my eyes off her, afraid if I looked at her I would lose it. I knew she was shaken and terrified. Ready to bolt. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead and dirty from who in the hell knows. I needed to get her to David, have him check her out. I had a feeling the bullet wound was probably giving her fits, the way she favored her side. Hell, I probably needed some medical attention too but it could wait.
I had a stranger to deal with.
I raised the gun to my shoulder and peered down the barrel. The man didn’t flinch as if he was used to being held at gunpoint. It didn’t sit well with me. Neither did the fact that he was standing between Cat and me.
I started toward him, determined to kill him if he made one wrong move toward her.
“You came for her?” I asked, keeping him in my sights. “You mind telling me what for?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. I was really starting to fume. I could say it was because he was here for her, but it was more than that. He and Cat knew each other. I wasn’t a jealous man but I was starting to become one fast.
“How about you lower the gun and we’ll talk?” he said, shrugging. “Just an idea.”
Smartass.
“Stupid idea. Try again,” I said, easing toward him. He didn’t move but Cat scrambled back, tripping over a branch to get away.
He glanced at her and grinned. I wanted to kill him for that and the familiarity in his gaze when he looked at her. I might have told her it was over but no one touched her. No one but me.
“Call off your guard dog. I’m not a threat,” he said to Cat with an edge to his voice that I didn’t like when he talked to her.
Cat suddenly stopped where she was and raised an eyebrow.
“Not a threat?” she said with spirit and ple
nty of backbone. “Call me crazy but I don’t believe you. You just said you came for me.”
He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Why? It’s been years.”
I wanted to ask if it had been years before her and I hooked up or after. It shouldn’t be my business but it was. I was making it. He was trouble and I was going to take him out if he touched Cat. Mine, the savage part of me rumbled.
He turned to face her completely. “Doesn’t matter why. When they finally catch up to me, all the guard dogs in the world won’t be enough. He won’t be enough.” He jerked his thumb at me and started walking toward her. “They’ll tie you up and…”
I had had enough. I saw what little blood was left in Cat’s face rush out as he spoke. I could tell she was growing weaker, unsteady on her feet. I never should have told her to run. Not still recovering from a bullet wound. She had no more fight left in her.
But she had me.
I lunged. The stranger sprinted forward, going for Cat. He didn’t get far.
I raised the gun over my head and slammed it down. The butt hit him in the back of the head. He crumbled to the ground, unconscious.
Cat seemed to fold in on herself. Her shoulders hunched forward. She started shaking. I wanted to grab her and run my hands all over her body, make sure she was alright and the cut on her head wasn’t serious, but instead I kept my distance. Sheathing my knife, I crouched down near the man and started searching his pockets.
“You okay?” I asked her as I kept my attention on what I was doing. When she didn’t answer, I glanced up. She was so pale that I thought she was going to pass out on me.
“Cat, answer me. Are you okay?” I snapped, worried.
“Yeah,” she mumbled so low I almost didn’t hear her. “I’m…I’m fine.”
I went back to searching the man’s pockets, keeping one eye on her. I could hear Tate and David in the distance, barreling through the woods like two hound dogs on a scent. They would be here shortly. I needed to get some answers from Cat before they arrived.
“Who is he?” I asked.
When she didn’t answer, I jerked my head up, aggravation growing in me. “Cat? Answer me! Who is he?”
She licked her dry lips, hesitating. “A soldier.”
I drew my brows together. A soldier? What the hell?
I hadn’t seen a U.S. soldier in at least a year. What was one doing out here, wandering through the woods looking for Cat? It didn’t add up. Neither did the guilty look on Cat’s face.
I set my jaw in a firm line and turned my attention back to searching the stranger. There was nothing on him but a map and some bullets. He must have hidden a stash of supplies somewhere. I would search for them later. For now, I had to take care of Cat.
I climbed to my feet, planning to go to her but Tate burst through the trees.
“We heard three gunshots. Who the fuck is he?” he called out, jogging toward us as fast as the low hanging limbs and thick undergrowth would allow. David followed behind him at a slower pace, huffing and puffing, his face red with exertion. They both had rifles and I saw a pistol sticking out from under Tate’s jacket.
“A soldier. He jumped me,” I answered, wiping blood away from my eye as Tate stopped by the man. He looked down at him, his eyes going wide.
“Hell,” he said glancing up at Cat. “You okay?”
Cat nodded and slid her gaze away, a telltale sign that she was feeling guilty as hell about something.
David kneeled down next to the man and checked his pulse.
“I know him,” he said, sitting back on his haunches and squinting at the man.
“Seems like everyone does but me,” I murmured. “Who is he?”
David pushed himself to his feet, frowning when he saw the blood dripping down my face. “He’s one of Frankie’s men.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cat
“You really did a number on him. You sure he ain’t dead?” Tate asked for the hundredth time, watching as Cash dumped the soldier on the cabin floor.
“I’m sure. He’s just unconscious,” Cash answered, standing up straight over the man.
It had made the trip back hard for Tate and Cash. They took turns carrying the soldier over their shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He probably weighed a ton. I had stayed near David, helping him under low branches and over fallen trees when his knobby, arthritic knees wanted to give out. By the time we reached the cabin, the sun was setting and the chill in the air had increased.
Cash pushed the man to his side with the toe of his boot. “You still got that rope, Tate?”
Tate grabbed the nylon rope from his belt and handed it to Cash. “You gonna tie him up?”
“Yep,” Cash answered, always patient with my brother.
He gathered the man’s hands behind his back and looped the rope around his wrist. Giving it a firm tug, he tied it and made sure the knot was tight. Satisfied, he stood up and wiped a drop of blood off his forehead.
“You gonna let me look at that cut?” David asked, nodding at Cash’s forehead.
“It’s nothing.”
I frowned. He had thrown his hat on the couch when we walked in. His hair was matted with blood and there seemed to be a lot of it. It was a little more than nothing.
He and David stood over the unconscious man, staring at him like they wanted to string him up from the nearest tree.
“So he’s one of Frankie’s men?” Cash asked, holding his shotgun in his hand, ready to use it if the soldier woke up fighting.
David scratched at his day’s growth beard and nodded. “Yeah. One of Frankie’s finest. I would know him anywhere. Frankie calls him his pride and joy. A real machine. He’s an expert marksman and tracker. From what I gather, he’s also a coldblooded, sly fellow. Folks say don’t let his dry humor fool you. He’s dangerous.”
“You think he knows anything about Keely and Gavin?” Tate asked, looking from the soldier to Cash.
Cash shrugged and surveyed the man. “Guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”
I looked down at the soldier, wondering what had happened to him. He wasn’t so coldblooded or dangerous that night at the party or that day in Austin when supplies were being handed out. In fact, he seemed kind of young and green both times.
Now he seemed harder. Carved into a mercenary. He was better dressed than any of us and cleaner than all of us. His jeans didn’t have holes and his jacket appeared to be neatly patched in places. Dirt didn’t cake his hair or was smudged on his face. He looked prepared to spend days in the woods.
Tate had found his backpack. It was well equipped. I had no doubt where the supplies came from. The militia raided, killed, and stole for what they wanted. The soldier’s clothes might have been taken off a dead man. A victim of their ruthless crimes.
“Was he in town the day we got out? Do you know?” Cash asked, peering at David.
David ran a hand over his mouth, thinking. “Don’t reckon he was. I figure if he was in town, y’all wouldn’t be standing here right now. Neither would I. The guy is just that good with a gun.”
Cash looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes cold slates of gray. “And you know him, Cat?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Kind of.”
Cash stared at me, his gaze calculating. I felt stripped bare and left raw, all my past laid out for him to see, including the moments I had spent with the soldier.
“I remember him,” Tate said suddenly. “He was that soldier in Austin, wasn’t he, Cat?”
I nodded, afraid to meet Cash’s hard gaze. I could feel it, burning holes in me. Judging me.
David squinted at Tate through the growing darkness in the cabin. “He’s a soldier you say? U.S.?”
Tate scrunched up his face, thinking. “Yeah, I’m sure. Had the uniform and everything. He told us to get out of the city didn’t he, Cat? Said bad things were about to happen.” Tate shrugged. “So we ran.”
The soldier let out a deep groan. I jumped back and Cash snapped his shotgun up, pointing it down at the man.
“Any sudden moves and I pull the trigger.”
The soldier’s eyelids fluttered. They rose halfway then lowered. Rose then lowered. Cash widened his stance, keeping his gun trained on the man as he tried to wake up.
“You sure he ain’t got a concussion or something?” Tate asked, talking a mile a minute like he was so good at doing. “They say if you get hit in the head then fall asleep, you could have trouble waking up. You think you hurt him that bad, Cash? You got a mean swing. Could knock a man into yesterday and confuse the hell out of him. Concussions can do that, am I right preacher?”
The soldier’s deep voice boomed out in the cabin. “I don’t have a concussion but I do have a fucking headache.” He squeezed his eyes tight. “Damn, kid, shut the fuck up.”
Cash didn’t move, pointing his gun steady at the man. “How about he shuts up and you start talking. Why are you here?”
The man peeled his eyes open and struggled to sit up, wincing. His face was battered and bruised, courtesy of Cash’s fists. His right eye was swollen and turning black. His bottom lip was bleeding. He had a nasty bruise on his neck and a nick inches from his jugular from Cash’s knife.
With his hands tied behind him, he looked around the cabin. The useless kerosene heaters were sitting against one wall, out of fuel. The last of our food was sitting on the table. His gaze skipped over Cash and touched on Tate then David. When he looked at me, I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Like I said, I came for her.” His gaze slid from me to Cash. “I take it you’re the boyfriend. I came for you too.”
Cash smirked, a deadly grin. “Well, I’m here. How about you just leave her out of it and deal with me instead?”
The corner of the soldier’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Oh, I’ll deal with you too but first things first. Her.”
Cash peered down the gun. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
The soldier shrugged. “Okay.”
