by Stasia Black
Their Bride
A Marriage Lottery Novel
Stasia Black
A.S. Green
Copyright © 2018 Stasia Black & A.S. Green
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Contents
Preface
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by Stasia Black & A.S. Green
Preview of Theirs to Protect
About The Authors
Preface
In the not too distant future, a genetically engineered virus is released by an eco-terrorist in major metropolitan areas all over the globe. Within five years, almost 90% of the world’s female population is decimated.
In an attempt to stop the spread of the virus and quarantine those left, a nuclear war was triggered. It’s still unclear who began attacking who, but bombs were dropped on all major US cities, coordinated with massive EMP attacks.
These catastrophes and the end of life as people knew it was collectively known as The Fall.
Map of the New Republic of Texas
Chapter One
LOGAN
“Piss off.” Logan Washington shook his head at his supervisor, Phoenix (“Nix”) Hale, as he drove the ancient four-by-four truck on the dirt road that cut through a field. He and Nix had worked side-by-side as part of the town’s elite Security Squad ever since Logan arrived eight years ago from Austin (or what was left of it).
“I feel for you, Ghost. I do,” Nix went on.
Logan glanced over, and his jaw went tight at the concerned expression that puckered the scar on Nix’s face. They called Logan “Ghost” for a reason. With the exception of work, he kept to himself. It was better that way. For everyone. He forced his attention back to the road without acknowledging Nix’s attempt at empathy. It didn’t suit him.
The truck jumped as they hit a rut, and Finn swore from the back seat. “Take it a easy. There’s no padding on these damn jump seats. You keep jolting me around like this and my balls are gonna be black and blue tomorrow.”
Logan ignored him. Finn had been complaining for the last hour and the drive was only three hours long. It was early May, and they were out on a Scrapper run in the westernmost edge of Central Texas North. Closer to the border with Trader’s Territory and West Texas Territory than Logan preferred.
Those bastards could be ruthless, especially if you ran into scavengers from Hell’s Hollow, one of the most prominent townships and trading posts in Trad Territory.
Most of the best shit had already been scavenged right after the bombs fell eight years ago, but Graham, one of Nix’s clan mates, always watched the satellite feeds. He swore the recent flooding had washed a biplane out into a clearing near here.
Since their own township, Jacob’s Well, was one of the few places that had access to such technology after the EMP attacks, they had a good shot at being the first to reach the site. It was doubtful the whole plane would be worth hauling back, but if they were lucky, they could strip it for parts and start heading home before nightfall.
This all sounded good to Logan. Between Finn’s complaining and Nix’s constant hassling, he already had a headache the size of the New fucking Republic of Texas.
“Another woman could come to town any day now,” Nix said, continuing to push the issue. “You should have put your name in for the girl who got here last week. When’s it gonna be? At least put your name in next time. What’s the harm?”
Logan didn’t respond. He didn’t see the point in answering stupid questions. He didn’t put his name in the lottery box because he wasn’t looking for a bride, or a clan for that matter; he was looking to be left alone. Nix was smart, so why was this so hard for him to understand?
“Well I’m sure never gonna miss a chance to put my name in,” Finn piped up again from the back seat. “I haven’t missed one since I turned eighteen, but I’m in the fifth tier so my odds are shit. But damn, Ghost,” he punched Logan on the arm, and Logan glared at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re in the first tier. I’d kill for odds like that. They’ve got to be like what, one in thirty?”
Again, Logan didn’t answer, and the tension at his temples stabbed at him like red hot pokers. Another good reason not to put your name in the box.
Fuckin’ Finn kept rambling. “But in a couple months…when I get that promotion you promised me, it’ll mean moving up to the fourth tier. Just you watch. I’m gonna be married by the time I’m twenty-one and have me a litter of kids before I’m thirty.”
Logan rolled his eyes but when he glanced over toward the passenger seat, Nix was staring intently back at him.
Logan returned his focus to the road. Okay, so calling it a road was generous. At this point it was more field than road—but every so often he’d make out ruts from where the road used to be, which told him he was still on track.
“Your woman…” Nix’s voice was quiet. “Man, she’s gone. You can’t mourn her forever.”
“Can’t I?” Logan asked, and he meant it. He was thirty-eight. He and Jenny had been high school sweethearts. He’d been married to her for twelve years and now widowed for eight. But some nights he woke up just as raw as the day he realized he’d lost her. Some wounds were so deep, time didn’t do shit to heal them.
Jenny. What he’d give just to see her again. He’d even take one of their knock-down, drag-out fights. He’d give his right nut just to hear her calling him names. “Logan, you stubborn ass!”
It didn’t make sense that God would take someone whom the world so clearly needed. Whom he clearly needed. She had an IQ that was through the roof, curious, inventive, and so damn beautiful. Tall. Pale gray eyes that could always see right into the heart of him.
No, he had no interest in getting married again. And no interest in disrespecting his wife’s memory with some stranger shoved in his life by a goddamn lottery. Not to mention, sharing a new wedding bed with four other men…? Damn. He knew the world was different and all, but some shit he’d just never understand.
Nix chuckled as if he could read Logan’s thoughts. “I know. I thought the same thing, but it can work. Look at what I have with Audrey and my clan.”
“Your wife is exceptional. No doubt, man,” Logan said. “Jenny was, too. But what if something happened to Audrey…
”
A low growl rumbled out of Nix’s chest.
“Easy, asshole. But you just made my point. If something happened to Audrey, you think you’d jump into bed with the next woman who stumbled into town?”
“No,” Nix growled, obviously upset at even the thought of it. Then he huffed out a loud exhale. “But you’re hardly jumping. It’s been eight damn years. A man shouldn’t be alone that long. It’s not natural.”
“I like being alone.”
“You’d like having your balls sucked more,” Finn said, his head popping up between Nix and Logan.
“Jesus,” Logan said, and he ran his hand through his hair.
“Like you know anything about it,” Nix shot back at Finn.
“Well I’m gonna. Just you wait. Fourth tier. I’m telling ya, this is my year.”
“If it’s going to be anyone’s year, it’s going to be Logan’s,” Nix said.
Logan fought the pressure building in his chest. He knew from experience that Nix wouldn’t let this go. His badgering had gotten worse and worse lately. It was time to shut it down once and for all.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Nix asked, blinking in surprise. “You mean it? You’re finally gonna put your name in the box?”
“Yeah. I’ll finally put a name in the box.” He’d do it, too. As soon as a new woman came to town, he’d make a big show of it—bring Nix with him and get that ugly fucker off his back once and for all.
But Logan would never be writing his own name on a ballot. He’d already come up with an alias. John Steinbeck. He’d read his ancient copy of The Grapes of Wrath so many times the pages were barely legible. What could he say? Reading about the Depression cheered him up.
“Wow, just think if both our names were to get called,” Finn said, leaning forward and getting in their space again. “That’d be awkward. Man, I’d like, see your junk cause we’d both be fucking our wife at the same time, right?” He turned to look at Nix. “Or wait. Do you just line up outside the bedroom or how—?”
“Jesus!” Logan shouted, and not just because Finn was a dumbass.
Logan jammed his foot on the brake, and the truck came to a skidding stop, nearly plowing through a rotted wooden fence.
“What the fuck?” Finn yelled, his body almost launching over the front seat.
Nix turned on him. “How many goddamn times have I told you to put your seatbelt on?”
Finn waved in front of them. “Don’t yell at me. It’s not my fault Ghost can’t navigate for shit.”
Logan’s jaw locked. “Well maybe if we had a better map or directions I wouldn’t be on a road that goes through a damn field and dead ends into a fence.”
While Finn was still shouting and losing his shit, Logan went quiet. Then he turned around and jammed his hand over Finn’s mouth.
Finn looked even more pissed, but Logan just hissed a long shhhh noise while not moving his hand from Finn’s mouth. Then he made a motion to listen, and Nix immediately went on alert. It took Finn a little longer to catch on, but eventually he calmed down and settled. Logan closed his eyes to hear better.
The noise that had first drawn his attention sounded again and Logan’s chest cinched tight.
“Is that a—?”
“Shhh,” both Nix and Logan hushed Finn at the same time.
Then all three of them were quiet, and the sound came again.
Logan and Nix’s eyes snapped to each other. And then they both shoved their doors open and started sprinting across the field in the direction of the noise.
In the direction of the high-pitched scream.
Logan was solid and well-muscled but not as bulky as Nix, so he ran faster. He jumped the fence like it was a hurdle and ran through the field before hitting the woods. Branches and nettles slapped at his arms and face, but he didn’t slow down.
The shouting was louder now so he was going the right direction. Hold on. Whoever you are, just hold on a little longer.
When he came around the bend in the trees and saw the rocky embankment, he thought he was too late.
Two men—smugglers Logan would guess—stood over what looked like a pubescent boy, trapped on the ground by a thick meaty hand held at his neck.
“Hey!” Logan shouted, waving his arms over his head. The two men’s heads shot up and looked his direction. “Yeah, you, you ugly fuckers. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
It was only as one of them raised a gun in his direction that Logan realized he didn’t have any weapons on him. Son of a bitch. He’d heard the scream and just took off without thinking. He wasn’t going to be any help to this kid if he ended up full of bullet holes.
Logan was about to dive into the bushes when the man holding the gun suddenly cried out in pain, arching and looking down at his foot.
Damn. The boy had shoved a wicked looking knife right through the top of his assailant’s foot. The man stumbled and fell to the ground. His gun tumbled out of his hand at the same time.
The boy didn’t waste a second. He scrambled for the gun, bashed the guy under the chin with it, knocking him out cold—all before the second assailant realized what was happening. The only conscious smuggler reached for the kid but—Shit!—the kid was fast. The smuggler’s hand closed around air, then an explosive shot rang out, the sound vibrating against the rocks.
Logan was close enough to see the spray of blood before the second man dropped to the ground. Dead. Then the boy was up on his feet, the gun swinging back and forth between the unconscious smuggler with a knife in his foot…and Logan.
Logan’s mouth dropped open. Not because there was a gun aimed at his chest. But because the boy wasn’t a boy. It was a tiny woman, at least…Logan was pretty sure that’s what he was seeing. Her hair was shaved close to her skull, and she was too skinny to have much in the way of breasts, but her eyes were dark, round and beautiful, and her hips… That was no boy.
“Who the fuck are you?” she shouted at Logan, gun still moving.
Yep. Not a boy. Logan put his hands up. “Just someone who wants to help.”
She scoffed. “What do you think I am, an idiot?” She leaned over and, gun still trained on Logan, yanked her knife out of the smuggler’s foot. He flinched and started to groan, coming to.
Logan took the last ten steps out of the woods onto the embankment. The woman kept her eyes on him the whole time as she leaned over and, using the knife she’d just reclaimed, slashed the smuggler’s throat. Ear to fucking ear.
Holy shit.
Finn and Nix stepped out of the woods behind Logan. He held out an arm to keep them back. He didn’t know who the woman was but she was lethal, that much was obvious.
She straightened her spine and turned in their direction again. Her face and dark stubbly hair was now covered in blood spatter. With the knife in one hand and the gun in the other, she looked like some sort of miniature avenging Amazonian warrior.
“I asked you a question,” she bit out. “Who the fuck are you?” She jerked the gun to make her point that this was her show. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Logan’s hands were already up, but he lifted them higher.
“Holy fuck, you smoked those assholes,” Finn said excitedly. “That was awesome. I mean, he was like,” Finn made a choking gesture with his hand, along with accompanying gargling noise, “and then you were like, whaaaaa,” Finn made a downward slashing motion, “and then, boom, you take him out. Fucking sweet.”
The woman frowned at Finn, and Logan felt the urge to apologize. Nix took a step forward. “On behalf of Jacob’s Well Township, I’d like to extend our warmest—”
The woman’s eyes flared in recognition. “Jacob’s Well?”
Nix nodded, eyes wary. “You’ve heard of us?”
The woman took a step toward them, and the gun wavered just the slightest bit.
“Jacob’s Well,” she repeated, her voice shaking. And then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed right where she stood.
Chapter Two
RIORDAN
“You’re going. Both of you. And that is that.”
Riordan ignored his mother, scowled at his perfect brother Ross, then ran his spoon through the disgusting slop they called food around here.
Both of you. Always “both of you.” Being an identical twin wasn’t as awesome as people thought. Which was why Riordan was going somewhere all right—just not the same place his mother was talking about. Riordan was getting the hell outta this town.
He wouldn’t plan his exodus to death like Ross would. No. Fuck that. He didn’t mind taking chances. One day it would all get to be too much and he’d just pull the trigger. He’d pack some hunting gear, steal a truck maybe, then take off.
He’d go someplace where a man could really make something of himself. He’d thought about heading to Fort Worth and signing up for the Army, but shit, that kind of thing was more Ross’s style. He didn’t want to trade-in their mother’s house just for another set of rules.
Don’t stay out after dark, Riordan. Don’t use that knife, it’s too sharp, Riordan. Come home right after school, Riordan. Why can’t you be more like your brother, Riordan?
“Finish your stew, Riordan,” said his mother, breaking into his thoughts. “It’s got real meat in it, and you need the protein.”
