His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on her arms. “You don’t ever keep important shit like this from me again. Are we clear?”
“Okay.”
“Listen to me, Rachel. Bottom line, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive. You hear me? Whatever it takes.”
She nodded.
He gazed into striking crystal-blue eyes and got lost for a moment, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and taste those lips, drown their sorrows with sexual hunger and need. When he first met her, she’d seemed attractive in an innocent girl-next-door way, but as he spent more time with her, she seemed to change before his eyes, become prettier somehow. Sexier. And with that pale skin and those blue eyes, that dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, well, she was a knockout.
He watched her eyes darken and her lips part. Tears forgotten, she leaned in, her hips almost touching his. Heat rushed throughout his body. A spark of electricity crackled between them.
He could have her.
Take her right here and now. Hold her down. Sink his cock into her welcoming heat…
Fucking hell.
He pulled his head out of his ass and remembered her virginity, her age, her history with men, how fragile she was and how a girl like her could never handle his aggressive sexuality. In the past, he wouldn’t have given one shit about any of that and plowed ahead with what he wanted, what he needed. But that was exactly how he’d lost his last girlfriend. He needed to play this one differently.
Even at the end of the world, he needed to act like a decent human being.
He let go of her arms and took a step back, noting the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Christ, he felt the same damn thing. “For now, it’s just the two of us alone until we find other survivors we can join,” he told her. “I’m not leaving, you’re not leaving. We’re in this together. I’ve got your back.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “And I’ll try and have yours.”
“So let me get this straight, what you’re telling me is that you accidentally shot your sister and you were beaten by your last boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I have the worst luck on the planet.”
“Had.” He tilted her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him. His protective instincts flaring back to life. Warmth blossomed inside his chest. He hadn’t lied. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Anything. “Had the worst luck on the planet. Now you’re with me. This shit stops now.”
“I don’t know, Adam. The world just ended. Most of the people on Earth seem to have been wiped out. I’d say my luck is still pretty shitty. Wouldn’t you?”
“But you survived. We survived.”
She shrugged. “The jury’s still out on whether that’s a blessing or a curse.”
“And you lost sixty pounds.”
She rolled her eyes. “But I’m still hopelessly out of shape.”
“I’ll help you fix that.”
“Yay,” she said sarcastically.
His lips twitched. Damn, he enjoyed her smartass comments. He wanted this Rachel every single day. “You know this doesn’t change the fact that you still need to learn how to shoot?”
Her eyes flew wide with real terror. “No.” She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt. “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? You heard my story, I can’t—”
“Rachel, what if something happens to me and you’re alone? You need to learn how to use those weapons so you can take care of yourself.” His voice deepened. “I need you to be safe, even when I’m not standing next to you.”
She shook her head. “How can I do that?”
“I’ll teach you,” he promised.
“I think you’re underestimating my phobia. I had years of counseling to get to this point. I used to be worse, much worse. Believe it or not, this is me reasonably adjusted to everything. I don’t think even Dr. Phil could fix me now.”
He inched his hands up and slid his thumb along her jaw. Her eyes softened, and he felt her pulse quicken against his fingers. He shouldn’t keep touching her, but he needed this, needed to feel her, to connect with her. Connect with another real, live human being, even for a moment. “And I think you’re underestimating my stubbornness. I’ll teach you how to shoot, even if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”
“Good luck with that,” she quipped.
He glanced at her lips. “I think I might need it.”
Chapter Seven
“Why are you always wearing those baggy-ass clothes?” Adam asked.
Rachel kept walking through the department store they were cutting across, her lips forming a hard, thin line. She rolled her eyes. Was he trying to piss her off? “Who cares what my clothes look like?” she answered sharply. “It’s the end of the world. We’re focused on staying alive. My clothes cover my extremities. That’s all that matters.”
Adam stopped in front of her and shook his head. She had to stop too, or risk bumping into his intimidating wall of chest.
“Look, we’re in Macy’s.” His arm swept out to encompass the women’s clothing section they were traveling through. “While we’re in this mall, you might as well get some new clothes.”
She’d been doing her best to keep her gaze focused on his back as they walked, scared half to death an undead person, mad with the virus, might unexpectedly pop out from its hiding place and attack, so she hadn’t really noticed where they were. And on top of that, there was the fear that the group of bikers would catch up with them and all hell would break loose. There was also the secondary fear that they’d meet nice, decent survivors, and Adam would fall in love with someone else and be lost to her forever. There were so many things to fret over it crowded her mind of all other coherent thought.
“Macy’s? Well…maybe I do need a few things,” she admitted as she glanced around. Yeah, she hadn’t packed much before leaving Davis. It was true she was in clothes she’d worn two sizes ago and they barely fit anymore. This used to be her favorite outfit. The shirt and shorts were so comfortable. But now, as she looked down at herself, she noted they were stained and worn. Adam was clean, and his clothes fit perfectly. Her cheeks heated up. Maybe she should take a moment to stop and make sure she still looked like a person. “Some new clothes wouldn’t be bad. I haven’t had a chance to think of anything other than supplies and life or death lately. It’s not like I was thinking of shopping.”
“Well, now you can. Pick out what you like, we’re not in a rush. It smells good here, no dead bodies as far as I can tell.”
“Yeah.” He had a point.
“Your clothes don’t fit.” Adam shrugged. “So get something else.”
She stepped forward and touched the fabric of a silky blouse on display. It was so pretty. She glanced at the price tag and winced.
“Why are you looking at the price?” Adam laughed. “Everything is free now. Pick whatever you want.”
“Oh, wow,” she whispered. The enormity of what he was saying crashed through her. It was true. No one owned anything anymore, did they? “Yeah.” She laughed. “Can’t help it. Old habits die hard.”
He turned his back to her. “Just try on what you want right here, I won’t look.”
Her stomach did a flip-flop at the thought of being half-naked so close to this gorgeous man.
Rachel willed her hormones into submission and picked out a pair of jeans, the most expensive brand, because why not? Everything was free now, right? She did what he said and tried them on. She picked up a ten, which was also loose, and so eventually settled on an eight. She shook her head, amazed she’d shrunk to a medium. She hadn’t been a medium since…elementary school.
Rachel left the new jeans on and stuffed an extra pair in a darker wash into her backpack. What else? She gravitated toward a rack of T-shirts unlike any she’d seen before, made of the s
oftest cotton and long, with a drapey cowl neck. They looked pretty and practical at the same time. She picked out two in medium, one in light blue and one in pale pink. And she needed something heavier in case it got chilly. She fingered a cashmere sweater, sighed and picked up one in taupe.
“You need more shoes.” Adam’s voice floated from behind her. “Boots you can run in.”
Her spine straightened at this reminder of their harsh, new existence. She nodded and followed him to the shoe department, where he helped her pick out a pair of brown, kickass, comfy boots. She left them on, liking them paired with her new jeans. She needed to change her shirt too, but before she did that, there was something else she desperately needed.
“Adam,” she said softly, embarrassment clogging her throat. “I need new underwear.”
He smirked. “Let’s go.”
And that’s how she ended up in an ocean of lingerie with Adam next to her. Her breath quickened, feeling his presence so close with all of the sexy bras and matching panties so near, reminding her of the sex she was not having. She couldn’t even meet his eyes. Did he feel it too? The same sexual need she did? She doubted it, because if he did, he wouldn’t care about the vow he’d made. He’d take her now.
“Can you please stand over there?” She pointed to the aisle. “I can’t do this with you so close.”
He grunted and walked away.
She exhaled and began picking out enough sexy panties to last a lifetime, shoving as many as she could into her backpack. She glanced back at Adam, making sure his back was still to her. Off went her ratty old shirt and on went a racy red bra—what possessed her to pick it out, she wasn’t sure—and her new pale pink shirt, and since it was all too form fitting, she put her new sweater on over it. The sweater was a size too big and a bit baggy, so she felt covered. She walked over to Adam, her backpack on, feeling outfitted and ready.
He turned and checked her out, head to toe. His eyes darkened. He looked away and she noticed a muscle tic on his jaw. “Let’s go,” he said.
They made their way through the mall, finding zero survivors but lots of equipment and food. Later, they both hauled their finds to the Hummer, got back in and Adam kept driving. Outside of Gilroy, near the Bay Area, he pulled into a rest stop so she could use the bathroom.
The restrooms were in a small, gray cinderblock building that stood at the end of the parking lot. He went in first, making sure it was safe. After a few minutes, he came back out. “All clear. I’ll wait for you out front,” he told her.
“I’ll be quick,” she promised. Adam walked back to the Hummer and she watched him go. Jeez. The man was gorgeous. He didn’t want her sexually—that had already been established—but it didn’t stop her from objectifying the hell outta him on a daily basis.
Inside, the restroom smelled like a million porta-potties that had never been cleaned, so she used the facilities as fast as possible, only taking an extra moment to take off her boots and jeans and pull on a pair of sexy, new panties. They were unlike anything she’d worn before, with bows and a racy edge of lace. Happy to feel fresh and clean, she pulled her jeans back on, laced the boots and picked up her backpack.
She couldn’t help but wonder for a moment what Adam would think of her new underwear. Imagined his hand on her ass.
Over these last two days, she’d wished with all her heart he hadn’t really meant what he’d said before about not touching her, that maybe he’d change his mind and he’d kiss her, or make some kind of move so she’d know he felt the same attraction she felt. But he hadn’t. She was alone in this. Living and traveling with a man whose very presence made her blood sing and her breath quicken. Meanwhile he’d treated her like a female co-worker or a kid sister. Most definitely not like a woman he wanted to have sex with. He’d said he wasn’t going to touch her, that they were “partners in this hellhole situation”. Partners, not lovers. And she knew he damn well meant it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, survivor’s guilt ripping her apart.
Focus, girl. Focus!
Her family and friends were dead, the world had ended and here she was, mooning like a teenager over a guy. Really, what was wrong with her?
Oh, hell. It wasn’t like there was a playbook or etiquette for this type of situation. Adam had been so gruff after they’d first met. It had been difficult to find the personality behind Mr. I’m In Charge And You’d Better Do As I Say Or We’ll Die. Behind the dark sunglasses, testosterone. He’d acted like a total ass, bullying her into jogging—
“Grrrrrrr.”
Oh no. Her heart banged in her chest. Rachel stood still as a mannequin, her fingers gripping the straps of her backpack. She listened and heard it again. A low rumble and a bark. Dogs. She knew that unmistakable sound. They’d seen so many animals gone wild and scavenging, it was becoming a normal occurrence. That deep growl had to be a large breed, something vicious with large teeth and claws. And it was outside the bathroom, most likely blocking the exit. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes burned. She pressed her lips together, taking shallow breaths through her nose.
Adam wouldn’t be able to see her. He’d already scouted the area, thought it secure and was waiting for her in front. But the exit to the bathroom was covered, leaving just enough room for these dogs to attack and for Adam to have no idea she was in trouble.
She was on her own.
Shit.
How was she going to get out of this?
She walked to the open doorway and carefully peeked around the corner, trying to see what she was up against. Her legs turned to rubber, her hands shook, but she caught a glimpse of her nemesis—a Rottweiler with a wide chest and a bobbed tail. It was nosing through a spilled trash can.
Of course.
It was never a Chihuahua, was it?
Her eyes widened. The dog wasn’t alone. There was a whole pack of them out there now, spilling over the side of a grassy hill onto the asphalt at the back of the restroom. All blocked from Adam’s point of view. All of them skinny, with bones showing. Ravenous and desperate. Pets that had gone feral and would tear her down without a moment’s thought.
Dammit.
Time to test out her new boots.
A noise grated against Adam’s nerves and sent him into high alert. He whipped out his weapon and froze, listening, trying to pinpoint the origin, the exact nature of the threat. There it was again. He cocked his head and turned toward the restroom behind him. A grinding, grating noise drifted down the parking lot. No. A primitive sound, almost animalistic.
A woman’s scream shattered the silence.
Rachel.
Adam cursed, yanked the driver’s side door open to the truck, pulled out the black duffle bag from behind the seat and sprinted toward the sound coming from around the corner. The parking lot was full of abandoned vehicles that blocked his path. He threw himself over the hood of a car, slid down the opposite side while still holding the bag, hit the ground and kept running, chest heaving, muscles burning.
Fuck. He should never have left her alone. Not even for a second. If anything happened to her…
A flash of color came around the corner. He skidded to a halt a few car lengths away. The color grew into a person. Rachel, running at top speed, ponytail flying behind her, arms pumping like an Olympic sprinter.
“Go, go,” she screamed. “They’re right behind me.”
What was right behind her? Fuck, he needed a higher vantage point. He noticed a monster truck nearby, jacked up, the bed empty. He heaved his bag up and into the truck bed and scrambled in after it, stood and aimed behind her, Glock ready.
First, one dog came into view, flying around the edge of the building, snarling with fury. Dogs? What the fuck? Then another, and another. More dogs, all different sizes and breeds, bumping and crowding against one another as they chased after her. Not just a few, not a couple…a whole ocean of them. Where the hell
had all these dogs come from?
Rachel ran straight for him. Smart, smart girl. He aimed and shot the dog closest to her heels, taking it down. There was a squeal and a slowing of pace as the other dogs leaped over their fallen comrade, but the pack kept coming. He leaned down and put a hand out, she grabbed it, and he hauled her into the truck bed. As soon as he had her inside, he fired at a Rottweiler that was way too damn close.
“Bag. Guns,” he shouted.
Rachel unzipped the duffle and dragged it close. Adam tossed the Glock down and picked up an AK-47. Enough of this crap. He started firing staccato bursts into the snarling mass of predators swarming around the truck. The dogs scattered as the bullets sprayed. They squealed, a mass of noise and confusion, and ran in groups of three or more, or sometimes in singles, weaving between the cars, hiding from the bullets. He waited a few minutes, his chest heaving, his breath loud in his ears.
A dog barked in the distance and then all was silent.
They were gone.
Adam lowered his gun, whirled around and bumped against Rachel. She lost purchase of the machine gun she’d been trying to yank out of the bag. It fell out of her grasp and she shrieked as she started to tumble backward, her arms pinwheeling like crazy. He caught her forearm with a firm grip and lowered her to the bed of the truck, softening the blow before her ass could slam into the unforgiving metal.
“Gotcha.” He grinned.
“Goddammit,” she huffed as she sat up and shrugged off her backpack. “Can’t I get a break?”
Adam laughed, suddenly relieved as hell that Rachel was perfectly fine and capable of smart-ass remarks and not being torn to shreds by a pack of feral animals. She lifted her chin and met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with good humor. He put his gun down and sank to his knees before her. He trailed his hand down her arm and threaded his fingers through hers. It suddenly hit him how precious this woman was to him. How essential it was that she remain by his side.
Die for You Page 6
