Theirs To Defy: a Reverse Harem Romance

by Stasia Black

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  GARRETT

  Garrett didn’t love being crammed on the tiny benches that lined the sides of the van for the four and a half hours they’d already been on the road. Especially since they’d had to take bumpy back and side roads, had run into obstacles more than once that had to be hauled off the road, and had far fewer breaks than he would have liked to stop and stretch his legs.

  But being by D’s side was worth it. She had to be as uncomfortable as he was in the cramped space but you’d never know it.

  She’d spent the first hour having the General run them through the op, over and over until Garrett thought he was gonna have to put his fist through the wall of the van if he heard the words “operational stealth” one more time.

  Garrett was pretty sure they all got the fuckin’ score. Sneak into the place. Smoke anyone who might already be there but don’t be too loud about it. Don’t draw attention to themselves. Duh, common fucking sense. Did the General think they were idiots?

  But Drea just sat beside Garrett, eyes on the General, nodding along like she was running the job in her head, detail by detail. Shit, she probably was. She certainly asked enough questions—what they’d do in this scenario or that.

  Point was, they couldn’t be any more prepared, even if they’d had months to plan it. Cause maybe no one else in the van wanted to admit it, but a thing like this, you could run drills till you fell down dead and it wouldn’t matter.

  Garrett had been around long enough to know that plans didn’t count for shit when you were in the middle of it. When bullets were flying and people were running around and you didn’t know who was yours and who was theirs, when shit was blowing up? Fuck, you just tried to do your job and get you and yours back in one piece.

  But hey, maybe this time would be different. Maybe this uptight Army fucker actually knew what he was talking about and it wouldn’t be like the MC jobs Garrett had pulled his whole life.

  At least there was Franco, one of the General’s soldiers, to help pass the time with his terrible jokes. Garrett swore they got worse by the hour. Might have annoyed Garrett except it was too damn funny seeing Franco get on Eric’s nerves.

  That guy needed to loosen up and let go of the pole he had up his ass.

  “So I’m in basic training, right?” Franco starts up, about five minutes after telling his last shitty joke. Franco was a little older than Garrett, maybe thirty or so? Still young but obviously one of the General’s most trusted guys to be chosen for this mission. He had dark hair and tan skin and yeah, basically woulda been a lady-killer back in the old days.

  Eric probably didn’t like him cause he kept flashing that big ol’ smile of his Drea’s way but that was cause Eric was a jealous idiot. Did he not think Drea had her hands full with the five of them? Fuckin’ dumbass.

  In Garrett’s book, anyone or anything that made Drea smile was a winner.

  “And there’s this guy, Benny,” Franco went on. “Always getting in trouble with our Drill Sergeant. If we’re going on a run, he’s always dragging in last. If we’re cleaning our barracks, his bed is always the one that’s not done right.”

  Franco leaned over, elbows on his knees, face animated now that he saw he had the attention of everyone in the back of the van.

  “So this one day, Sarge really lays into Benny. Just reams him out. And as he’s walking away, he says, ‘Guess one day you’re really gonna enjoy walking on my grave, huh, cadet?’”

  Franco sat up straight on his seat as he gets into character. “And Benny goes, ‘No sir, Sarge!’

  “‘Oh yeah, and why’s that, cadet?’ the Sergeant asks.”

  “‘Cause I promised myself after I get out of the Army I’m never standing in another line ever again, sir!’”

  Drea busted up laughing and Garrett couldn’t help smile too, cause he could feel Drea’s body shaking beside him. He loved that about her. She didn’t do anything in half measures. Laughing. Fucking. Going to war.

  Garrett’s hand tightened on the barrel of his rifle that he’d been polishing for the last half hour.

  Garrett glanced over to Drea, so small beside him. Almost anyone was small compared to him, but D seemed especially so. Maybe just because he was rarely around women, but still. Just how pissed would she be if he tried to like, handcuff her to the steering wheel while they went down and made sure it was all clear in the building?

  He knew the answer, though. She’d fucking castrate him if he ever tried anything like that.

  Besides, who was to say staying in the van would be any safer than going in the building? No, the safest place for her was at Garrett’s side where he knew he could kill any motherfucker who even looked at her sideways.

  Because while D was here to save the world or some shit, Garrett was only here for one reason.

  He was here for her.

  So he’d protect her at all costs. With his life if it came down to it. He swore he would. He fucking swore it.

  His whole damn life he’d taken the cowards way out. He still wasn’t sure why Drea hadn’t turned after capping his paps and put one right between his eyes.

  But she hadn’t.

  So maybe he felt a little like he was living on borrowed time. He should have died that day with all of his so-called brothers.

  Instead he’d been given the object of his wildest dreams. He’d gotten to fucking marry her. Life wasn’t supposed to work like that. You were supposed to get what you deserved, like his dad finally did. Like the hellfire she’d bring down on Suicide once she found him.

  But Jesus, a big part of him didn’t care that he didn’t deserve her. Now that he had her, all he wanted to do was grab her, throw her over his shoulder, point his rifle at the driver and demand they let him and D out.

  Yeah he’d probably have to somehow slip her like ten of the Doc’s old pills and then chain her to a tree when she woke up, but she’d be alive, so maybe it’d be worth it.

  But damn it, part of loving D—and yeah, he fucking loved her, he had forever if he was being honest—part of loving her meant not caging her. It meant loving all of her.

  That was the part her dad could never understand. He thought he could keep her separate from MC life. He thought she could be two people like he was—the loving dad by night at home, and the ruthless MC President slave trafficker by day.

  But that was never D. She threw her whole being into what she believed. No compromises. Ever.

  Everybody compromised. Their character. Their morals.

  But not D.

  And he loved her, for that and for so many other reasons.

  “What month do soldiers hate?” Franco asked her?

  “I don’t know. What month?”

  Franco grinned. “March.”

  D giggled. Fucking giggled, sitting there in combat boots, with guns and ammo and probably a few other weapons Garrett didn’t even know about strapped to her body. Goddamn but he loved this woman and all her contradictions.

  So for once in his sorry life, he wouldn’t play the coward. He’d follow her to hell and back if that was what it took.

  He’d be a man worthy of her.

  Or die trying.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ERIC

  David pushed aside the curtain separating the back of the van from the driver and passenger’s seat where Drea sat. She’d moved up there as they got closer to Houston so she could direct them on the best roads to take. The Army driver maneuvered deftly around debris and abandoned cars and Drea held up a Geiger Counter.

  They’d driven a wide circle around Houston, so they hadn’t seen any part destroyed by the nuclear bomb, but they were still too close for Eric’s comfort. Sure the fallout supposedly fell to the northeast… but what if they were wrong? What if they were driving straight into a toxic area?

  Eric didn’t think he was the only one holding his breath as everyone except the driver watched the little arm of the Geiger Counter bouncing around in the green zone, occa
sionally sparking up into the yellow along with a little crackle the machine let out.

  If it went into the red and stayed there, this whole mission was fucked.

  Well, they had one haz mat suit.

  So theoretically Jonathan could suit up and Eric could attempt to direct him into the building where he thought they’d find what they need, if everything still was where it had been twenty-five years ago…

  Eric clenched his jaw and looked out the window. Thank Christ the moon was bright tonight because they didn’t dare use headlights. It meant they’d had to go slow, though, and even though they’d started out right after full dark, it would be sunrise soon.

  If everything went as planned, though, that wouldn’t matter, because Travis wouldn’t have eyes in the sky for much longer. They could drive back to the caves during the day without worrying about him or anyone else being able to see them.

  But if things took much longer than planned and he happened to be monitoring this area…

  “Look,” Drea said. “There.” She pointed up ahead.

  “Yes,” Eric said. “That’s it. Take that left up there. Turn in by the two planes.”

  He spared a glance at Drea and found her looking at him. They’d done it. Actually gotten here.

  The Geiger Counter squawking jerked both of their attention to the machine.

  The arm sat solidly in the yellow warning zone now.

  Drea swallowed but straightened her back and looked forward out the windshield again. “Which building?”

  Eric knew there was no stopping or going back. Not when they were this close. And as long as the meter didn’t go red, the best he could do was try to get them in and out as quickly as possible.

  Drea needed him. The whole team did. It was a position he wasn’t completely comfortable filling. As was his uncertainty about whether he could ever live up to the job. But he’d learned early on as Commander of Jacob’s Well that people didn’t need a perfect leader, they just needed someone to look to and follow.

  So he made his voice confident and sure when he said, “Take that road past the visitor center around the memorial trees to the outbuildings. The one we want is Building 30. I’ll tell you when we get to it.”

  The driver nodded and they drove on. Eric glanced past Drea in the driver’s seat to the side mirror and saw the second black van behind them following closely on their tail.

  “I see a building but I don’t know what number it is,” Drea said when a building loomed up out of the darkness on their right. “It’s too dark.”

  “Got another one over here,” said the driver.

  “No, it’s further in,” Eric said. “Keep following the road around. It’s not much farther.”

  How many times had he and Mom driven this same road? In the summers, she liked to pick up Dad in the middle of the day so they could all go out for lunch at least once a week.

  “Whoa,” Drea said, shifting forward in her seat. “What the hell happened there?” She pointed to big chunks of metallic debris covering the road.

  The driver pulled to a stop and David spoke into his walkie, ordering several troops out from the van behind them to investigate.

  Eric slid over Drea’s lap to push out the door, too.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “I have a hunch,” he said. “But I need to know if I’m right.”

  Drea grumbled something but then followed him down as the troops fanned out around the crumpled metallic lumps. But Eric wasn’t looking at the metal in the road. He was looking at the building off to the left of them.

  “Yep, it’s what I thought.” He pointed to a broken fence, overgrown with brambles and vines. “These are what’s left of huge liquid nitrogen tanks that used to be right over there. They used them to simulate space conditions to test equipment. But liquid nitro has to be kept at minus 320°F. As soon as the power went out and the temperatures rose, they would’ve blown.”

  “And no one’s been here or tried to drive down this road since? When it’s such an important site?” Drea shook her head. “Not sure I buy it. And the way it’s positioned here right in the middle of the road.” She swung around, looking right and left. “No, I don’t like it at all.”

  “Agreed,” David snapped. “Back in the van. What are you doing out here without your damn vest on, anyway?”

  Drea didn’t even give him any backtalk. She just went back to the van. Damn, Eric thought. She must actually be worried.

  They all got back in the van and the driver drove up onto the left curb and then onto the overgrown grass.

  A second after they did, Eric wondered how smart it was. Because what if the metal in the road had been planted as an obstacle? And a landmine was planted here in the grass to blow if anyone tried to go around it?

  But he must be just crazy paranoid because there was no boom. Nothing exploded. No gunfire erupted from anywhere.

  The night stayed just as quiet as ever except for the growl of the van’s engine as first one and then the other climbed up onto the grass and passed the debris in the road.

  Jesus, he was freaking himself out with his over-active imagination. But maybe he wasn’t the only one, because a second later, a smaller hand crept into his and he looked down to find Drea’s hand squeezing his. She didn’t look his way and that was the only point of contact she allowed between them. But it was enough. So much more than enough.

  Today had been non-stop. They had to get everything ready and go over a detailed mission briefing. Twice. He’d had to say goodbye to Sophia again—she’d kept her face averted the whole time he explained as much as he could about why he had to go, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Then they’d all snuck out of the caves and hiked the mile and a half to where the vans were stashed. And then there was the long, long drive. But that didn’t stop the memories of last night and this morning from playing on endless repeat through his brain.

  Jesus, the way Drea had eventually given herself over to them. With complete abandon. Complete vulnerability. It had been beyond his wildest fucking dreams. But then, she was always more than he expected. More than he’d known was possible.

  And here they were. Risking it all right after they found it. The hair on his arms went up as he looked back and forth through the front windshield and then out both passenger windows. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark but still, he could only see clearly for maybe five to ten feet in front of the van. In the distance he could only just see the vague outline of buildings whose silhouettes rose here and there like gravestones out of the otherwise flat landscape.

  “Here.” Eric grabbed the bulletproof vest Drea had deposited beside her seat and helped her into it. Again, she didn’t balk or bat his hands away or tell him she could do it herself.

  His other clansmen and the soldiers in the back—especially that too flirtatious Franco guy who’d been flashing about a hundred too many smiles Drea’s way—were all talkative on the drive, but everyone was dead silent now.

  Eric guided the driver down the winding road past more and more buildings.

  “That one,” he said, pointing at the familiar shape of the Mission Control building. It was a little more distinctive than the others—there was an older portion of the building, and then a taller ten-story extension built on to the original.

  Tour busses used to run non-stop on these roads, crowd after crowd pouring into Building Thirty and tromping up the stairs to the third floor where the historic Mission Control was located—the exact room where such famous communiques as Houston, we have landed and Houston, we have a problem were received.

  Dad had tried to pressure Eric in high school to get a summer job as a tour guide but at the time, nothing sounded worse than being stuck outside in the Houston heat talking about ancient history to bored tourists and their snot-nosed kids. Much less doing anything his dad wanted him to do.

  Eric winced just remembering what a little shit he’d been as a teenager. It still hurt, knowing ho
w he’d wasted those last years of his father’s life, fucking around trying to ‘find himself’ or some bullshit.

  “I’m never gonna be you, Dad,” he’d shouted in one of the last conversations they’d ever have on this earth. “I don’t care about science or math or any of that shit. I don’t want to help NASA continue to prepare for the eventual colonization of Mars. Don’t you ever stop and look around you? There’s enough that’s broken right here on earth. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for long enough, you’d see that it’s people who need help. I’m not gonna waste my life on some bullshit outer space science.”

  His dad hadn’t said a word. But he had forced Eric downstairs and into the truck.

  “What the fuck, Dad?”

  His dad raised his hand sharply, his finger in Eric’s face. “Don’t curse like that anywhere near this property, you hear me? It’d break your mother’s heart if she heard you using such filthy language.”

  And then his dad had driven him here.

  As the van came to a stop and they all piled out, Eric couldn’t help but compare the two experiences. With his dad it had been the middle of the night, like now, and the campus had been similarly abandoned.

  Back then, though, the small courtyard in front of the Building 30, Mission Control, was swept with a row of nice, trimmed bushes lining it.

  Now the courtyard was a mess. The grass and bushes were overgrown. Trashcans were overturned and trash scattered. One of the big front windows on the first floor had been shattered and vines had grown up around the opening, into the building.

  “Careful,” David said, taking the lead and stepping through the broken window. He had an automatic weapon out and another strapped to his back, along with a backpack that Eric could only imagine held more ammunition or weapons. His soldiers followed, guns raised, several staying behind to flank their clan.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Eric had been watching David’s guys and the building but at Drea’s words he looked back. Only to find her squaring off with— Gisela? What the hell was she doing here?