by Paige Weaver
Maybe.
I pushed past him and across the tack room. I had to get away before I changed my mind. Before I made another stupid mistake and took back my words. He was too addicting and I was too far-gone. The best thing to do was go cold turkey.
I was almost to the doorway when he grabbed my arm and spun me around. I didn’t have time to fight or yank away from him. He had me against the wall in seconds. My spine hit the warped boards. My hair fell into my face and stuck to my lips. Cash didn’t care. He glared down at me, his eyes gray pinpoints of ice.
“Fuck the condoms and fuck what I said,” he rasped, inches from me. “You’re in my blood, Cat. When you bleed, I bleed. When you hurt, I hurt. I’m not staying away from you. Not until I’m ready.”
With a tightening of his jaw, he pushed away from the wall and walked away. I watched, my heart beating fast.
The words ‘not until I’m ready’ echoing in my heart.
Chapter Twenty–One
Cash
I walked out of the barn with angry strides. Why the hell had I admitted she was in my blood? Was I fuckin’ crazy? I wanted her to hate me. To never again put her life on the line for me. I had to get away from her and that look in her eyes. I had taken her in the barn to teach her a lesson. But Cat had taught me one instead. I couldn’t keep my hands off her no matter how hard I tried.
She had asked if it was a fuck and run. Damn straight it was. I was terrified of what I felt around her. No woman had ever driven me so irrational before. But what I said was the truth. I wasn’t staying away from her. That was a problem.
I rounded the truck and stalked toward the front of the cabin, trying to keep my mind off the way Cat had looked down on her knees in front of me.
David and Tate paused in their wood stacking.
“Is he still here?” I growled, ignoring how David gave me a knowing look. So what if Cat was giving me the best blowjob I’ve ever had while he stood right outside the door? I was going to hell anyway for all the shit I had done since this war had started. There was no saving me now.
“That soldier?” Tate called out as I stomped toward the cabin. “Yeah. He’s right behind you.”
I swung around, my hand going to the knife attached to my belt. I must be off my game. I never heard the man. He was standing at the top of the porch, looking like he owned the place. Arrogant bastard.
“There’s no need for that,” he said with a grin, looking down at my knife.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’re some nasty snakes slithering around here. Best to be prepared.”
He chuckled and started down the porch steps toward me.
I didn’t move. Just watched him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cat walk around the corner of the cabin and stop, looking pale and more fragile than usual. I afforded her a quick once over. Her hair was a mess, tangled curls lying softly on her shoulders. Her green eyes were wide and damn if there wasn’t hurt written all over her.
I pushed down my concern. She was okay. I had made sure of it before I turned all cold and assholeish on her. It was better to be that way than to allow her to love me.
But it was hard to see her hurt. Really tore me up inside if I allowed myself to admit it. And fuck! Getting her pregnant? That left me weak and damn near shaky.
There was only one thing to do. The idea came as clear as day. I had to get her and Tate home safely then walk away.
It was the only way. I wouldn’t be tempted by her. She would be forced to forget about me. There would be no more concern over getting pregnant. No more worry about her sacrificing herself for me.
Tate had been coming into his own and was capable of taking care of himself and Cat. He had learned how to handle his weapons and find what was needed to survive. She would be safe with her brother. Better off than almost dying for me.
It wasn’t the best laid plan I ever had but it would work and she would be okay. I would make sure of it before I left. Then I wouldn’t look back.
With my mind made up, I focused back on Adam, noticing the pistol stuffed in the front of his waistband.
“I told you to leave,” I said in a low voice.
Adam widened his stance and glanced around, squinting against the sunlight.
“Now why would I do that? I kind of like it here,” he said, his eyes moving to Cat.
Rage rolled through me but I remained still. I couldn’t get her and Tate home if I was six feet in the ground. I had to keep my head straight and stay calm.
I let go of my knife and took lazy, relaxed strides toward the soldier. I was aware of Tate edging closer, pushing his coat back to expose his gun. Shit. The kid was going to get himself shot. I needed him to stay alive to take care of his sister when I left.
I shoved down the unease and focused on the threat in front of me. David said he was a killer. An assassin. I wasn’t afraid of him. He could kill me for all I cared. Maddie always said I had no fear. She was right. I didn’t. But I had someone else to think of. Cat. And this man needed to understand that I was willing to die for her but I would take him to hell with me.
He didn’t move when I stopped in front of him but I saw his fingers twitch, wanting to grab his gun and use that one bullet on me.
“She’s off limits,” I said in a deadly voice that only he could hear. “I don’t share. I don’t back down. And I don’t fuck around. You try something with her, the buzzards will be picking at your bones in minutes.”
The smile on his face died. His eyes went hard.
“If I remember correctly, I didn’t see a ring on her finger,” he muttered past tight lips.
I ground my back teeth, wanting to strangle him. “Doesn’t matter. She’s with me.”
“With you?” he scoffed. “Does Cat know you’re marking your territory?”
The rage in me multiplied. He smiled with satisfaction. I wanted to punch the grin off his face. Instead, I kept my cool. It was time to settle this.
I readjusted the cowboy hat on my head and took a slow step toward him. Stopping right by his side, I stared at him under the brim.
“Mark my territory? Hell, I did that long ago,” I drawled, my tone warning him not to go there.
But he did, the sonofabitch.
“Was that before or after me?” he asked, smirking.
Fury burst in me. I felt it travel to my fingertips and boil and brew. In the back of my mind, I could hear my father whispering that violence solved nothing. But things were different. I was different. The world had changed. The only person who was going down was Adam.
I pulled back my fist to punch him but Cat caught my eye. She stood in the same place. A cold breeze lifted the ends of her hair. Anxiety lined her face. Minutes ago, I had come in her. I had branded her as mine, giving her a part of me that I had never given any girl. She was mine until I walked away. After that…hell, I didn’t want to think about it but after that she was free.
But not one second before.
The soldier needed to be reminded of that. I tore my gaze away from Cat and lowered my arm. Adam quipped one eyebrow up, looking surprised that I backed down.
But I hadn’t. Sometimes words had more of a punch than a fist.
I pushed my hat back and glared at him. “The only reason you’re still alive is because she stopped me from killing you. But I can change that. Just try me.”
Before Adam could smart-off again, I turned and walked away. I wasn’t going to wait around for another one of his snide comments. I had said my peace. He could take it or leave it but whatever he chose to do, I would make sure he never touched Cat.
“You want me to tie him up again?” Tate asked as I stalked toward him with furious strides.
“No. Just watch your sister and keep an eye out for trouble,” I said over my shoulder as I continued walking. “I have something I have to do.”
~~~~
Finding the chickens was easy. Catching one of them was the hard part.
When I was out earlier, I had heard the tellt
ale clucking from a distance but hadn’t investigated. I had been gone too long and didn’t want to wander from the cabin. But now I needed the space and we needed the food.
I was being a real ass toward Cat. I knew it. I needed to be in order for her to see that loving me was a mistake. I wanted her to take care of herself first, not some bastard that broke her heart and used her. Despite my best intentions to be a card-carrying butthole, as she so eloquently put it, I was mindful of her wound at all times and tuned into her every need. When her stomach growled a few times in the barn, I knew she was starving. We had no food left except for what we could catch, kill, or find. I had done one. Now it was time to do the other two.
I crouched low and tried again to sneak up on the ugly orange chicken. There were four of them but I had my eye on the plumpest. I followed it around in a circle then dove for it. Its beady little eyes rolled back in its head and it let out a loud, startled squawk. I tried to snatch it again but, with a flap of its scrawny wings, it ran to safety in the midst of its friends.
“Damn,” I muttered.
I took off my jacket and tossed it to the ground. It was cold but I was working up a sweat. I was going to get a chicken. Cat deserved a good meal after all the shit I had put her through.
I eased forward. The chickens scurried away but didn’t go far. I saw my opportunity when the fat one stopped to poke at something on the ground.
I lunged and she squawked, the others darting in all directions. I was able to grab her by the neck before she could scamper away.
“That’s my chicken you got there.”
I froze. Someone was behind me and he sounded angry.
The chicken was going haywire in my grasp, feathers flying everywhere. I turned around slowly, holding the squawking bird away from my body.
A man stood between two trees. His legs were the size of tree trunks and his face was lined with wrinkles. He looked old enough to be someone’s grandfather and young enough to move fast if I decided to run.
His beard was gray and hit him in the middle of his barrel chest. Layers of furs covered his meaty shoulders and potbelly middle. His clothes were patched and his shoes had duct tape wrapped around them to hold them together. Smudges of dirt and grime filled the creases around his eyes and made his John Deere cap a dark brown.
My knife was on my belt and David’s pistol was in my waistband. I could drop the chicken and grab one of my weapons but I didn’t want to. Cat needed food.
I held up my free hand, showing I was no threat.
“I didn’t know they belonged to you. Would you be willing to part with one of them?” I asked, holding the struggling chicken as feathers floated around me.
The old man scratched his beard. “Wellllll, I ain’t sure if I can part. Times are tough and that’s one of my finest.”
I looked at the chicken in my hand. My mouth salivated.
“I can see that. She’s a beaut. But my friends are hungry and we’re out of food,” I said, hoping he heard the desperation in my voice. “You mind if I have her? Please, sir?”
The word ‘please’ sounded funny coming from my mouth but I wasn’t above groveling. We couldn’t make a run for home if we were starving. Finding water would be hard enough. Finding food might be impossible.
The old man rolled back on his duct taped shoes. His beady little eyes looked me up and down. His unkempt beard twitched.
“Wellllll, I’m open to trading. I sure am.”
Shit. I had nothing on me but my clothes, my hat, and my weapons. When the EMP hit, I had a credit card and forty dollars in my wallet. At first, I exchanged some of the cash for supplies but money quickly became useless. I would have paid the man for the chicken but that was then and this was now. The only thing people wanted after the country went dark was water, food, weapons, and medicine, in that order. I had one of those things and I wasn’t ready to part with it just yet.
“I don’t have much. What do you have in mind?” I asked, hoping he was interested in my boots or my jacket.
The man looked me over carefully.
“What about that knife on your belt?” He jutted his beard-covered chin at the sleek, bone handle visible on my waist.
A sinking feeling filled my gut. My dad had given me the knife when I was twelve. It was all I had left of him. Just a memory.
“How about a pistol instead?” I asked, reaching for my gun. It was much more valuable than the knife and meant nothing to me.
The old man pushed his John Deere cap to the side and scratched a spot over his ear.
“Gun makes too much noise out here. I’ll just take that knife,” he said, indicating it with a nod of his bushy head.
Images of my dad teaching me how to use it filled my mind. I could almost feel his hand on my shoulder, showing me how to aim my throw.
“Steady,” he had said. “Make it count, son.”
I withdrew the knife from the sheath and walked over to the man, still dangling the chicken from my hand.
“Deal,” I said, offering it to him, handle first.
He took the knife. “It’s a beauty,” he said, turning it over in his hand. “A real looker.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a tightening in my chest. “It is.”
Before I could change my mind, I turned and headed back the way I had come. The chickens scattered and the one in my hand flapped its wings. The old man grumbled at them to be quiet as he shuffled away through the leaves.
My dad’s words from that hot summer day rang in my head. Make it count, son. And I had.
I traded the only link to my past for a girl that had become my future.
Chapter Twenty–Two
Cat
I watched Cash stalk off toward the woods, his last words ringing in my ears, ‘Not until I’m ready.’ They hurt. His coldness cut. Once again, he took what he wanted. Once again, I gave in.
But I was determined that it wouldn’t happen again. I meant what I said. We had to stay away from each other and there was no better time to start than now.
I stayed near the corner of the cabin, watching him and Adam. I didn’t know what they were talking about but it was heated. They had faced off like a couple of gunslingers, ready for a shootout in the middle of a dusty, western town.
Cash had that quiet stillness to him. The one that made me hold my breath and grow anxious and needy. Adam was a loose cannon. Someone not to be trusted. When Cash walked off, Adam was left standing. He must have felt me staring at him because his blue eyes met mine. I could see him for what he was.
Dangerous.
He slid his gaze away from me and turned back to the cabin. Something didn’t feel right. Warning bells went off in my head. Why isn’t he leaving?
I glanced at Cash as he walked toward the line of trees. His strong back was ramrod straight and his focus was set ahead. My body was still tender from what he did to me in the tack room and my heart was still hurting from what he said afterward. I shoved it all into that little box where I kept everything I didn’t want to face. I would deal with what I could. If Cash wasn’t going to stick around and see what Adam was up to, I would.
Keeping an eye on Cash, I hurried toward the porch. Adam was inside and I didn’t trust him. The stash of guns was well-hidden and we had nothing else of value but I wouldn’t put it past him to do something to make us more vulnerable.
I was almost to the porch steps when I saw Tate heading toward me.
“Save it,” I snapped when he caught up to me.
I was angry and hurt about Cash. I was mad that Adam was here, drudging up old memories of who I used to be. I was scared because Frankie was hunting us. And I was worried we would never be free of the violence and need to always look over our shoulders. The last thing I wanted was to listen to Tate whine and complain.
His eyebrows shot up at my sharp tone. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, I do but that’s besides the point. I’m not in the mood.”
He opene
d his mouth to argue but I held up a hand, not finished.
“I have something to do and I know Cash told you to watch over me but that’s just too bad. I don’t need a babysitter so don’t try to be one.”
Tate snorted. “I ain’t gonna try. You can kick ass better than anyone. Cash would argue with me but he’s not here now so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He jogged to keep up with my quick strides. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay. Spill,” I muttered, stomping up the porch steps, super-aware of David watching from his position at the woodpile. Just because I couldn’t look him in the eye didn’t mean I felt guilty for going down on Cash when the preacher was right outside. I was glory-bound for purgatory anyway. A few minutes down on my knees or with my legs around Cash wasn’t going to make a huge difference. I already had a fast pass to the fiery gates of hell.
“So…um…did Cash tell you we’re leaving tomorrow?” Tate asked, following me up the porch steps.
“Yeah. Why?” My heart was twisting.
“Because…well…what if…at home…”
I stopped at the top and turned to face him. He was taller than me now. Not quite as big as Cash but he would be someday. I was sure of it.
“What about home?” I asked, growing impatient. “Are you worried we won’t make it?”
I had never known Tate to worry but I could tell he was agitated. I could see it in the way he started chewing on his thumbnail and gazed up at me through strands of his hair.
“No. It’s not that.” He shifted nervously onto his other foot. “It’s….do you think Dad made it home? He could be waiting for us right now, wondering where we are.”
My throat clogged up. Heaviness settled on my chest like a pile of bricks. Our dad wasn’t waiting for us. He was dead. I was sure of it. A nameless body in a mass grave. No one was wondering where we were. No one would greet us when we arrived home. No one was missing us. This was it. Just me and Tate. There would be no dad or mother. No family to hug us and welcome us. There would only be him and me.
