Their Forever Home [Men of the Border Lands 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Marla Monroe

  “Yeah, you’re right. Hope we can find a bridge fairly soon. I don’t want to wait around till the water goes back down to cross it. Once we make it across there, the campground we were told about isn’t far, about twenty miles or so heading northwest,” Lance said.

  “Fuck.” Carver was tired of walking. What he wouldn’t give to be back at his old clubhouse sitting back with a beer in his hand and his fingers tangled in some sweet butt’s hair while she swallowed his dick.

  “Gonna be a long fucking day.”

  “It’s already been a long fucking life,” Lance said almost too softly for Carver to hear.

  “What was that, Mule?” he asked, knowing the nickname would piss him off.

  “Don’t start with the name, asshole. I’m not one of your biker buddies,” Lance said and started walking without looking back to see if Carver was following or not.

  Truth be told, the lawyer had started to grow on him some. Better there were two of them than just one on their own in these times. He just wished it had been one of his family and not a stranger he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure of. Yeah, he’d been there when the knife was coming down, but why? Neither of them had any loyalty to the other. What made Lance step in and almost take the knife for him? That was what bothered him.

  They walked for another hour before the sound of water rushing over rocks and through fallen limbs could be heard. It grew louder and louder until it was enough to drown out all of the wildlife around them. When they stepped out onto the bank, Carver wanted to curse at fate. The fucking stream had turned into a river from the melting snows up north. The early snows were melting now that it had warmed up again. No fucking way they could take a dip into that and survive. If they didn’t end up bashed against one of the rocks, they’d die of pneumonia for sure.

  “Looks like we follow the stream until we find a place to cross,” Lance said.

  “Stream? That’s a fucking river, man. Where do you get stream from?” he asked with a snarl.

  “On the fucking map, man. It says stream. I guess they drew the damn thing during the summer when it wasn’t like this. I don’t know. Stop bitching at me like a whiney girl!” Lance glared at him with the map held up.

  Carver couldn’t stop it. He grinned. “Well, all right! ’Bout damn time you grew some balls.”

  “Fuck off, Carver. Just start walking.” Once again, Lance turned and walked off without seeing if he was going to follow.

  They’d gone maybe two hundred yards when Carver caught sight of something in the water. When he stopped and looked, it was gone. He shrugged, figuring it was something that had gotten washed downstream from somewhere.

  A hundred yards later, he saw it again, only this time it was caught up in a huge limb that had fallen half in and half out of the water. It just floated there like a piece of fabric caught in the current but unable to float free because of the hold the branches had on it.

  Once they’d gotten closer it hit him. That wasn’t some blanket or something. It was a human being clinging to the damn limb, and it looked like they were losing the fight.

  “Lance! Someone’s in the river hanging on to that limb. Hurry, man!” Carver took off running as fast as the underbrush would allow. Lance was closer. If anyone made it before the body in the water lost their grip, it would be him. He was generally faster on his feet and was much closer than Carver.

  He saw Lance throw himself on the ground at the edge of the river and reach for whoever was still holding fast to the limb. Fuck! It looked like his arm wasn’t quite long enough to reach them.

  “Hold back, Lance. I’m coming,” he shouted over the roar of the water.

  Just as he reached them, one of the branches the person was holding onto cracked and gave. Lance surged forward and grabbed the arm of the person, and Carver fell onto Lance’s legs to prevent him from ending up in the water with the half-drowned rat he was attempting to save.

  “Fucking hero!” Carver screamed as he started pulling on Lance’s legs to bring him back onto solid ground. “You’re fucking heavy, too, asshole!”

  “Shut the hell up and get us back on dry ground. The water is fucking freezing!” Lance’s cursing let Carver know the other man was scared but holding it together.

  Just as Carver managed to pull them both up on the bank, part of the huge limb Lance had been clinging to gave way, dropping into the swirling water and shooting out into the current. Carver rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. Pulling Lance, who had to be close to two ten, along with the wet rat he was holding on to had just about ruined him.

  Carver rolled back to his stomach and got up on all fours to check on their catch. It was then that he realized their fish had turned out to be a woman—a very wet, very cold, and probably dying, female.

  “Well, fuck me.”

  Chapter Two

  Lance couldn’t believe they’d pulled in a woman when he’d grabbed her out of the stream. As soon as he’d gotten close enough to the bank, he’d seen her pale face and frightened hazel eyes, filled with colors like an autumn rainbow. He had seen her slipping away and had made a split-second decision when his arm hadn’t been long enough to reach. He had shoved his body until he was able to grab her arm, and just before he ended up in the icy water, Carver had tackled him, grounding him with his own body.

  He figured they both weighed about the same, close to ten, but where Lance had the height at about four inches over the other man, Carver had the brawn with muscles on top of muscles that more than made up for the four inches. His legs were going to feel that mountain that had crashed down on him for a few days.

  Even as he looked at the female she closed her eyes and any starch she’d had left in her slipped away. Lance figured being unconscious was better because he figured there was only a slim chance she’d live anyway.

  “We’ve got to get her warm, or she’s going to die on us,” he told Carver.

  “No shit. Even if we can get her warm, we don’t have any idea how long she’s been in that water. She’s probably going to die anyway, man.” Carver touched her throat and shook his head. “She’s a fucking human popsicle.”

  “We need to get these wet clothes off of her.” Lance started trying to wrestle with them, but they were clinging to her like a second skin.

  “Not yet, man. It’s cold and we don’t have a lot of time. We have to get her out of this or she definitely won’t make it.”

  “Where the hell are we going to find shelter out here?” Lance asked. He wanted to do something, not sit there while the woman died.

  “The map showed some caves around this area. We need to find one and get her out of these wet clothes. I’ll find firewood and we can build a fire and get her warmed up.” He wasn’t about to lose hope on her. They hadn’t seen a female in weeks. He hadn’t seen an unclaimed female in longer than he and Carver had even known each other.

  “Hell, Mule. She’s not even shivering. You can’t bring someone back from that.” But he helped Lance wrap her in a blanket from his pack. “Fuck. I’ll carry her. You find us that damn cave,” Carver said, picking her up. “And make it damn fast. She’s already soaked through the blanket, and now I’m getting wet.”

  Lance ignored him. The man was all snarl. He had to complain about something or he’d admit he was worried about the woman.

  While the other man carried the unconscious woman behind him, Lance combed the map, trying to pinpoint their exact location so he could find a direct path to the closest area where he figured there would be caves. They continued following the swollen stream while he did. It felt like hours had passed before he realized they were barely a ten-minute walk from a cave marked on the map.

  “Got one! Follow me,” he yelled out with a whoop.

  “‘Bout damn time,” Carver snarled. “She’s getting heavy.”

  “Don’t you dare drop her,” was all he said as he wound around a particularly thick section of scrub and used his compass to keep walking in the right direction.


  After a good ten minutes plus some, the cave came into sight. He was about to run inside to check it out when Carver yelled for him to stop.

  “Don’t be stupid, man. There may be wolves or even a mountain lion living inside. We need to build the fire and see if it smokes anything out first.” Carver started to set down his burden, but Lance stopped him.

  “Hold her and keep her as warm as you can. I’ll gather firewood and start the fire. How close to the cave’s entrance do I make it?” Lance asked.

  “Even with the entrance so the smoke will flow back into the cave. Hurry man. She’s ice cold.”

  Lance rushed around, grabbing anything dry that was small enough he could manage it. Once he had a good-sized fire circle created with rocks, he set up the sticks then used one of their precious matches to light it. Normally, they used flint to start a fire, but time was more important now than conserving the matches.

  Less than five minutes later, he had a roaring fire going. It put out lots of heat, but not much smoke. When he looked back to ask Carver what he should do next, it was to find him sitting super close to the heat being put out with the woman in his arms.

  “It’s not making much smoke,” Lance said.

  “Grab some of the wetter leaves underneath the dryer ones. Put three or four of them on the fire, but don’t let the fire go out.”

  Sure enough, when he dropped three of the wet leaves on top of the flames, smoke immediately started billowing up.

  “Now wave it toward the cave and keep it off of me. Can’t breathe very well with all the heat as it is now,” Carver told him.

  The other man started pulling at the still-unconscious woman’s clothes, trying to get them off while Lance worked on creating the smoke they needed.

  Lance used a shirt from his pack and began waving it so that the billowing smoke rolled toward the cave until large puffs disappeared into the inky blackness. It took a little while, but some raccoons and a family of skunks raced out of the cave’s opening. They paid them no attention as they hurried away.

  “All clear now?” Lance asked.

  “Don’t know for sure. Hold her while I scope it out,” he said.

  Lance pulled the now-shivering woman into his arms while Carver grabbed a long stick and laid it in the fire. Once it had caught ablaze, he took it and used it to light his way as he entered the cave. It didn’t take long before the flickering light of Carver’s makeshift torch was swallowed up by the thick blackness.

  The other man had managed to get the woman’s top off and had her wrapped in the blanket. Lance stayed as close to the fire as he could manage without singing his eyebrows. He wanted to give her as much of the heat as he was able to stand.

  Long minutes dragged by as he waited, listening for any sounds that might give him a hint of what was going on inside of the cave. After what seemed like twenty minutes but was probably less than fifteen, the sound of Carver’s boots scuffing on the ground let Lance know the other man was returning.

  “Well?” he asked when Carver stepped out into the open.

  “Looks clear. I still don’t feel safe, but it will do for now. I’m going to build another fire to help block off the entrance so those critters won’t come back during the night. Come on this side of the fire and finish taking her clothes off. Then spread out all of our blankets. We’re going to have to get cozy to bring her temperature back up.”

  While Lance stripped the both of their clothes and rolled them up in the blankets, he watched Carver gather a massive amount of firewood he put on their side of the fire then build another fire using burning coals from the first to coax the second one into life.

  “How’s she doing?” Carver asked as he stepped back and started pulling off his damp shirt.

  “She’s about to shake me to death, but so far she’s still alive. She has the prettiest hazel eyes, Carver.” Lance wasn’t sure why he said that last part.

  “She’s awake?” Carver asked, stopping what he was doing.

  “No. I saw them when she was still hanging on to the tree limb. Seeing all that fire in her eyes is what made me take the chance that you would help and lunge for her. You can see golds and greens and browns in them.”

  Carver just grunted as he pulled off his boots followed by his jeans. That’s when Lance realized his newfound friend hadn’t been boasting out of turn about the size of his dick. He was hung like a bull, and the man didn’t wear underwear. Jesus, he could have gone the rest of his life without seeing that.

  “Let go of the damn blanket, Lance. I’m freezing my nuts off here.”

  “Not like you need both of them,” he said before he thought about it.

  Carver burst out laughing and scooted between the covers when Lance released them. Then he scooted over until he was pressed tightly against the woman. It put the two of them facing each other with her in between.

  “Hell. I’m not staring at your pretty-boy face all night.” Carver started to turn over.

  “Wait. We need to talk first. Then you can turn your tail over like a pussy,” Lance said with a hint of humor.

  “Fuck you! What do we need to talk about anyway?” he asked. It amused Lance how his entire face frowned when he was pissed.

  “To begin with, what are we going to do about her? If she fell in by accident and has a family somewhere, we need to get her back to them,” Lance said.

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “That’s the next question. Do we take her with us?”

  “Hell, man. She probably isn’t even going to survive. We’re going to end up digging her grave. That’s what we’re going to do with her,” Carver said.

  “She might make it. Then what? We’ll have to decide what to do about her then. I’d rather have it figured out now than wait until she’s better and not have a plan in place,” he said.

  “You and your fucking lawyer plans. There doesn’t have to be a plan for everything, Lance. Live a little for once. You survived the fucking apocalypse and the anarchy that followed. That was a fucking miracle if you ask me. You weren’t cut out for this life.” Carver’s face turned a light shade of red.

  “I’m sorry your friend didn’t make it, Carver. None of mine did either. Not one single one of the bastards I grew up with and went to school with. It sucks, but it isn’t your fault or my fault. Just because I survived, that doesn’t mean that in some sick twisted way someone else had to die and that happened to be your friend. Life doesn’t work like that. There isn’t some scale somewhere that balances everything. If someone good lives then someone bad has to die to even it up. Is that what you think?” He panted, angry now because he realized part of the man’s hostility toward him was because that was exactly how Carver thought.

  Instead of mouthing off something, Carver just stared at him. Lance was sure that if he looked real hard he’d see his own death in the man’s eyes right then. Instead, the asshole smiled, showing a few more even, white teeth than was normal when a man smiled. Holy hell, he was about to die.

  “So what the hell do you want to do with the woman if she makes it?” Carver asked without taking his eyes off of Lance.

  “I say she goes with us to find the new community near Yellowstone. It’s spring. We’ve got plenty of time to make it before fall. We can hunt and trap as we go so we have plenty of furs to offer since we won’t have anything else to offer,” Lance said.

  “So that’s how it works? We have to buy our way into this place?” Carver asked, scowling.

  “No. It isn’t like that. But if we get there too close to winter to help pull our weight for the coming cold months, it would be nice to have something to contribute as a show that we’re willing to work.” Lance knew chicken shit about gardening or hunting or anything that would be useful. He wasn’t sure about Carver. The man didn’t say much if he didn’t have something important to say—or insults for him.

  “So the plan is to take her with us. Then what?” Carver asked, staring hard at Lance.

  “We’ll
be there then. That’s all.” Lance could see the disbelief in the other man’s eyes. Shit.

  Carver didn’t say anything more, just stared at him. Seconds ticked by, and Lance had to force himself not to squirm like a kid waiting on his father to call him on a lie.

  “What?” he finally bit out.

  “You want her to be your woman, don’t you, Lance? What are you going to do if she doesn’t want you?” Carver asked.

  “Of course I want her, but I thought we’d share her. That’s how everything is now. Two or three men share one woman to make sure she’s safe and they can provide for her and their children,” Lance said defensively.

  “And if she doesn’t want you, or us, for that matter, what then?”

  “Then she doesn’t want us. She’ll be in a larger group of people who are trustworthy. Out here she’s in danger every second of every minute.” Lance stared back at Carver, wishing the man would just say what he wanted to say instead of drawing everything out like he did.

  “You won’t force her? Not into taking what you want or telling her it’s for her own safety? What kind of man are you?” Carver’s words pissed him off.

  They made him so mad that he punched out before he’d even thought about it. His fist made contact with the other man’s cheek when Carver turned at the last second. Lance thought his hand would break apart it hurt so damn bad.

  “Fuck! What the hell are you made out of, concrete?” he asked, shaking his hand and wincing.

  “Same fucking thing your hand is made of. I think you cracked my fucking cheekbone, asshole.”

  Lance stared at him in disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”

  Carver chuckled then winced. “Before we met up a few months back, I was a bondsman, one of those bastards that went around making sure that there was some kind of law in place to protect the rights of those just trying to make a life for themselves and their families. That’s what it started out as anyway. Things started changing as more and more men joined and some of them weren’t too nice, if you know what I mean.”