by Paige Weaver
Sadness made me feel a hundred times older. I had never had a close relationship with my father. He was always too busy traveling. Too caught up in his meetings and contracts. But I wished he had been with us when the EMP hit. Maybe Nathan would still be alive. Maybe my dad would have saved Keely and me from Paul and Hightower.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
Life was full of maybes. Maybe Luke and Jenna would still be alive if I hadn’t been crazy and stupid. Maybe I never would have met Cash if my car hadn’t broken down at Cooper’s Bar. Maybe we would be safely tucked away at home if I hadn’t run from my feelings. Maybe I would’ve stopped loving Cash when he pushed me away.
I glanced up at Tate. There was no maybe about this one. My dad was never coming back. I just had to convince my little brother of it.
“Dad was in Dubai when the EMP hit, Tate. Even if he’s still alive, there’s no way he could get home.”
Tate got that look in his eyes. The one that told me he was about to do his favorite thing…argue.
“Adam said some countries have planes back in the air now. He could have hitched a ride. Would be easy enough with his overseas contacts,” he snapped, his eyebrows drawn together. “If anyone could do it, Dad could.”
I felt an inkling of anger. Just what was the soldier feeding my brother? Lies? Hope? Belief that the end of the war was in sight?
Before Tate, Keely, and I met up with Cash and Gavin, we tracked a group of men from a tiny town outside Austin. They had just exchanged some of their bullets for a case of homemade moonshine. It was the drink of the apocalypse, people said. We didn’t care about the alcohol; we wanted the bullets. We were out and guns were our only source of protection.
The decision was simple – we would take what we wanted. Stealing wasn’t above us. Tate, Keely, and I followed the men. Keely had become an expert pick-pocket. I was clever and cunning when it came to taking what wasn’t mine. It’s how we managed to survive.
By the time the men stopped, they had sampled the moonshine and were feeling relaxed. The three of us hid behind some trees to watch and wait. Maybe they would drink a little more and pass out. Maybe they wouldn’t hear us sneaking into their camp.
But instead they started talking. A new president was in office. A different government was being formed. I didn’t care about any of it. Politicians were the people who got us into the mess in the first place. But I did care about what they talked about next.
The electrical grid was being fixed.
It was a futuristic idea. As foreign to me as the idea of a man walking on the moon was to people at the turn of the century. But the men talked about it with anticipation. It was the hope of our new, fresh-faced country. A goal of the new president. Lines were being checked and restrung across the nation. Electrical stations were being repaired. Some cities had limited electricity with constant black out periods but it was working. Parts of the United States were finally seeing the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.
I had refused to get my hopes up. The country was large and places like Washington, D.C. and New York City were much more important than a little hicktown in nowhere, Texas. We would be the last to get electricity, I was almost sure of it.
The thought left me despondent. I was tired, hungry, and scared. I missed my home. Nathan. Diet Coke and showers. I missed clean clothes, coffee, and music. I miss everything I had taken for granted including my dad. But I didn’t think I would see him or anything else from my prior life again.
I glanced around at the woods surrounding the cabin, seeing nothing and everything that was my life now. Emptiness. Isolation. A stillness that couldn’t be described. It was a pretty day despite the brisk chill in the air. The trees looked like they were on fire with their red and gold leaves. The sky was cloudless and the sun was bright. But here on earth, war and human evilness had left nothing but ugliness.
And I wanted to escape it all.
I took a deep breath and gazed back at my brother. “He was in Dubai, Tate. He’s not coming back.”
Tate’s expression turned hostile. I knew underneath it, he was just as scared and upset as me.
“You ain’t never believed in him, Cat. Not once. I remember you saying that Dad only cared about his money and we should only care about spending it. Well, you were wrong. He cares about us and he’ll find a way to get home. So you can give up on him but I won’t. I never will.”
He stomped away from me with angry strides but stopped halfway across the porch and marched back.
“Do you even think Keely and Gavin made it home or did you lose all hope for them too?” he bit out, infuriated.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I haven’t lost hope, Tate, but I also haven’t lost touch with reality. Dad’s gone and he’s never coming back. Even if he were alive, the chances of him getting home are slim to none. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. This world is ugly and harsh and not all daisies and rainbows. But Keely and Gavin are safe, Tate. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Almost? Geez, Cat, you should hear yourself. You trying to be positive is a joke. You’re the most cynical person I know and you will never change,” Tate said, rolling his eyes. “Just stop trying.”
He was right. Positive didn’t give me anything but let-downs, but I was worried about Keely and Gavin. What if Frankie and his men found them? What if Hightower caught up to them? There was only one way to find out. Adam. I had a feeling he knew more.
“Why don’t we go talk to our visitor? He knows something he’s not saying.” I pushed past Tate, my fear and worry turning into anger. And it centered on one person.
I marched across the porch and flung back the rickety door. The cabin was dim, making it hard to tell what was man and object.
Unafraid, I stepped inside. A cold stillness seemed to permeate the cabin. Unlike the chill outside, this one was absolute, filling every corner of the small living room and kitchen. It sank deep into my bones, sapping me of warm. I shivered and burrowed deeper into my coat before going further inside.
“Where is he?” I muttered to no one in particular, glancing around the dark interior.
Tate appeared beside me. “What’s that noise?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
I heard it too. It was coming from David’s bedroom. It sounded like someone was rummaging through a box.
I was right. Adam was up to no good.
I reached over and grabbed the pistol from Tate’s waistband.
“What the hell?” he whispered loudly, looking at me with outrage.
I ignored him and weighed the weapon in my hand as I eased forward. It was heavy, cold, and felt deadly in my hand. The feeling of holding something that could take a person’s life made my stomach turn, but it was a necessary evil if I wanted to survive.
I held the gun out in front of me and started across the cabin. I heard Tate pull out his other gun, the sound of metal sliding against leather loud.
Taking careful steps toward the bedroom, I tried not to make any noise or step on a loose floorboard. If I could sneak up on…
“I can hear you,” Adam’s deep voice rang out from the room.
My steps faltered. Dammit.
I drew myself up to my full height. Taking a deep breath of courage, I stepped into the doorway and raised my gun.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I looked down the barrel of my weapon at the man who had been sent to hunt me.
He was kneeling near an old army cot, his big body resting on his knees. In front of him was a box that he had obviously pulled out from under the bed. Its contents were spilled all over the floor. Clothes. A couple of books. A bottle of whiskey.
David’s things.
Adam looked up at me and smirked. “Just being curious, sweet pea.”
“Don’t call me that. Get up. I have a few questions for you.” I motioned with the end of the gun for him to rise to his feet. I just wished that I didn’t look like a girl who was still weak from a bullet wound and
lack of food.
My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Great.
Adam chuckled and raised one eyebrow. “Hungry, darling?”
I gave him a sardonic, dry smile. “That’s none of your business. I told you to get up.”
Tate stepped around me. Lifting his gun, he pointed it at Adam’s forehead. “I think my sister said to get up. You hard of hearing?”
Adam glanced at him, a deadly glint appearing in his eyes.
“Oh, I can hear just fine.” He nodded at the gun in Tate’s hand. “You might want to be careful with that thing, kid. Wouldn’t want it to go off accidently and hurt you.”
Tate didn’t move a muscle. “If it goes off, it won’t be accidental and it won’t hurt me.”
The glint flared brighter in Adam’s eyes. He didn’t appreciate the threat. But just as soon as it was there, it was gone. The easygoing man was back, covering up the killer he was with a smile.
He chuckled and climbed to his feet. “Are we really going to do this all over again? I told you that I wouldn’t hurt anyone. You can trust me.”
“Trust you?” I snorted. “You shouldn’t have been snooping around.” I stepped out of the doorway and motioned with my gun. “Move it.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
Taking his time, he strolled toward the door. When he got close to me, he stopped. Tate brought his gun up higher in warning. Adam ignored him and gazed down at me.
He was broad with bulky muscles and an in-your-face amount of lethal power. Cash was opposite – sleek and lithe, his underlying danger that stayed quiet until it brewed and simmered when provoked. The differences were there but they were both dangerous.
“Your boyfriend know you’re doing this?” Adam asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt coming out of my mouth. “Move.”
Adam narrowed his eyes but started toward the door. Giving my brother an arrogant glare, he walked out of the room.
Tate and I followed. To my surprise, David was standing in the living room, a shotgun cradled in his arms in an unstated warning.
Adam walked over to the couch and sat down as if it was everyday two guns were pointed at his back. Stretching out his legs, he leaned back and folded his hands behind his head, looking relaxed and right at home.
He looked from Tate to me then to David. “I take it he’s not here?”
No one answered him. We didn’t need to be told he was talking about Cash. But to admit out loud that he wasn’t here was admitting how vulnerable we were. Cash was obviously the strongest one of the group. The one who would pull the trigger first and ask questions later. Without him, we were weaker. More of a target for Adam.
He looked at each of us again. “So no one is going to answer me?” When we kept quiet, he scoffed. “So he leaves a girl, a kid, and an old preacher alone with a killer? Good idea.”
“So you admit that you can’t be trusted,” I said, peering down the barrel at him.
He turned his light blue eyes on me. “I didn’t say that, sweet pea.”
I arched my brow, not believing him and irritated with the names. He grinned knowingly and raised his own eyebrow, taunting me to argue.
I stepped forward to do just that but David intercepted me, limping closer and wincing at his bad knees.
“What was he doing in there?” he asked, nodding toward his bedroom.
I lowered my gun and started to answer but saw Adam reach under his jacket for something.
Tate shot forward and I lifted my weapon again as Adam pulled out a pistol.
“Calm down,” he said, looking from me to Tate and holding his hands out to show he was no threat.
I eased my weapon down an inch and Tate relaxed but didn’t back away. Satisfied, Adam set the gun beside him on the couch and looked at David.
“I was looking for bullets,” he said. “I don’t like being handicapped with just one.”
I rushed over and grabbed the pistol then moved away quickly.
He watched me, not moving a muscle. “Is that really necessary?” he asked in a voice that held a note of warning. “I don’t like being unarmed.”
I gave him my best, smartass smile. “Too bad. It’s necessary.”
I handed the gun to David then faced Adam again. “Tell us about our friends.”
“What friends?” he asked, sounding believable.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “The blonde and a guy with her. Cash asked you already. You said you didn’t know what happened to them but I have a feeling you do.”
Adam leaned back against the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him and his arms along the back. He looked relaxed despite Tate’s gun trained on him. I waited impatiently for him to get comfortable.
“What do I get for telling you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and smirking.
“How about you get to stay alive,” Tate said from beside me. “That work for you?”
Adam laughed at Tate’s ferocity. “Okay. No need to get testy. I’ll spill.” He rolled his neck, popping the kinks out. Sighing, he answered. “A big brute, Hightower, went after them. That’s all I know. Honest to God. Last I heard, he hadn’t found them yet.”
Oh, Jesus. The thought of Hightower chasing Keely left a bad taste in my mouth.
“You believe him, sis?” Tate asked, keeping his eyes on Adam.
I studied the man from my past for a minute. “Yeah, I do.”
Adam’s smile widened. “Thank you, sweet pea.”
I frowned. “But tie him back up anyway,” I told Tate, turning away.
Adam’s low grumble of frustration sent a thrill of smugness through me. I heard Tate tell him to get to his feet and Adam mutter about bossy women. I was feeling pretty satisfied but it was short-lived. I was halfway across the room when his deep voice rang out.
“Your boyfriend said he marked his territory with you a long time ago. Threatened to put me in the ground if I treaded on what was his. Sorry, honey. Guess it’s not going to work out between us after all.”
Anger bubbled up inside me. I could feel David and Tate glancing at me. My cheeks burned. I wanted to scream with outrage and embarrassment, but my grandmother’s cranky, old voice came back to haunt me.
“You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Catarina. Remember that when you feel like having one of your little fits.”
I shoved her nasty memory to the back of my mind and plastered a perfected, sweet smile on my face. Turning, I faced Adam.
He stood big and tall across the room, a formidable opponent ready to battle. Not one ounce of him moved as Tate tied his hands behind his back. His mouth quirked up in a grin, seeing that he was getting to me, but in his eyes there was a dare. A challenge. It fed my courage and drowned any fear of him.
“There was never an us, soldier. But I do know how hard I am to forget. Good luck with that and I hope you and your right hand live happily ever after,” I said.
Adam chuckled but his gaze blazed, warning me that I went too far. David cleared his throat, reminding me that he was still there and the reference to Adam jerking off wasn’t appreciated. I ignored him and met Adam’s stare, unwilling to back down.
He glanced up and down my body slowly. “You’re a handful. I hope Cash has lots of energy to keep up with you.”
“I do,” a deep voice interjected from behind me. “And she’s my handful.”
The sound was like warm silk drifting across my naked skin. I felt safe instantly. Cocooned. Wrapped in seduction. Heated with need and angry because I wanted him.
Cash.
He stood in the doorway, sunlight behind him. His cowboy hat was pulled low, leaving only his jaw visible. His chin was cut from stone and his jawline was covered with stubble. I could still feel the roughness on my neck, leaving burn marks behind.
I suddenly didn’t feel like the girl who had held a gun on a soldier. I felt like the woman who Cash had held up against the wall and whisper
ed in my ear that I was his. And that made me mad and hurt all over again.
From one of his hands dangled a feathered, dead animal, limp and ugly. I wasn’t sure what it was but my stomach growled in response.
He held it up. “Dinner,” he explained as if reading my mind. “There’s enough meat for everyone but Cat gets seconds.”
“You found a chicken?” Tate asked with awe, forgetting about Adam at the mention of food.
“I traded,” Cash said as if that answered everything.
Adam and Tate spoke at the same time.
“Traded? With who?”
“What did you trade?”
Cash didn’t answer either of them at first but when he did, his voice held a quietness that sent shivers over my spine.
“Doesn’t matter what I traded or who it was with. What matters is that we’re eating tonight. We’ll need the energy for tomorrow when we leave for home.”
Chapter Twenty–Three
Cat
Dinner was chicken over an open flame. Cash had wrung the little thing’s neck before bringing it to the cabin and David got the privilege of plucking it bare. I was glad not to do either.
I stared into the flames, watching the pieces of chicken cook on the makeshift skewer that Cash had made. As drops of fat sizzled and popped in the fire, my mind went back to the first time I had been forced to eat wild game.
It was right after Nathan died. Keely, Tate, and I roamed aimlessly for days, unsure where to go. The sun blistered our exposed skin. Heat exhaustion zapped our energy. Thirst and hunger slowed us down. Exhaustion made us weak and slow. We finally made camp along a two-lane highway, hidden in a thick cluster of trees.
“I’m starving,” I had complained, hugging my knees to my chest as I sat on the ground. My lips were dry and cracked. My skin was red and burnt. I was covered with a fine layer of dust and dirt but my empty stomach was worse than feeling grimy and filthy. I had never felt so hungry before.
Tate poked a stick into the dirt, making a small hole, gaunt and tired. “Me too. It’s been two days since we ate. My stomach is gnawing on itself.”
