by Alexa Riley
For a brief second, we lock eyes. He doesn’t seem all that confused or even upset. He looks like he’s trying to focus despite obviously being in pain. His ice-blue eyes pierce mine, and the heartbeat that passes between us makes me feel something deep inside me I’ve never felt before in my life. Somewhere so deep I didn’t even know it was there. It scares the shit out of me.
Just as planned, the crowed swallows up the space around us and I blink, breaking the spell he had me under. A man tries to grab me, but oddly Brad stops him. I slip out, melting into the crowd, and to where I’d left my hoodie. Bo pads behind me like nothing special happened and we are just strolling along. And the chaos of the plaza ignited.
A bloody nose on the live feed, knocking an official to the ground, a pilfered weapon, and a smooth getaway. All before 9 a.m. This is the kind of action that propels our resistance. Someday the Insurgence will be a lion and the Regime a stumbling gazelle. We will pounce. We just have to wait for our moment.
Chapter Two
Brad
The video went viral before I could put a stop to it. The one that’s being shown over and over was videoed by someone in the crowd, not the crew. There’s no footage of her face, and it’s driving me insane. I need to see her face again, though I’m pretty sure I have it committed to memory, but part of me thinks I have to be remembering it wrong. No one could be that beautiful. She was utter perfection. So much so it had stunned me and I let her walk right up to me and punch me.
I’ve watched and rewatched it on my phone while in the emergency room, but only her round ass is visible, and I hate that everyone who watches the video is getting a nice look at it. It appears then disappears like a ghost in the night. The sight of her ass makes my pants feel tight. Then I turn my focus to her tight tank top. Who the hell did she think she was? The video shows her punching me in the face. I fall back, hit my head, and then she’s reaching down for my sidearm. That’s when she slipped in the flower, too. People start to crowd in on me and then she’s…gone. I’m just fucking glad it wasn’t caught on tape me stopping someone from stopping her from escaping. It wasn’t that I wanted her to get free. I just didn’t want that man’s fucking hands touching her to do it, even if that meant letting her slip away from me for a moment.
The image of her is burned into my brain. High cheekbones and insolent little chin. Dark brown eyes and wavy dark hair to match. She looked like some sort of badass pin-up that came to torture me. I could see her collarbone, which is forbidden. Showing skin like that is extremely brazen. Not to mention showing off her big tits in that top. Everything about her was wet sin, and I wanted to slide my cock in it. I needed her under me. It was a foreign feeling to have a driving need for sex.
The Insurgence is mocking us. Why else would they send that hot little street punk to take her clothes off, hand me a knuckle sandwich, and take my gun? Then on top of it she leaves me a damn flower? Nobody knows what that fucking thing means. I think they do it just to mess with us. I didn’t need the fucking flower to mess with my head. She was already doing that all on her very own.
I sigh as I rub my temples and close my eyes. I just want to sleep, but the nurse said for me to stay awake. They need to make sure I don’t have a concussion. I look down at my phone and I think about dialing The Leader to report my missing firearm, but my phone rings first. Shit. This is not going to help the slight headache that has taken up residence in my brain.
“Chalmers, what the fuck?” he yells into the phone before I can say anything.
“Sir,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I saw the video. Where’s the cunt and where’s your gun?”
Boiling anger floods my veins at the sound of The Leader using that word to describe her. I don’t have any loyalty to this woman, but I feel a massive surge of protectiveness that I don’t quite understand. I hear a quiet crack and realize I’m holding the phone too tightly. I breathe in deeply, trying to gain some control and not lose my shit on him.
“I don’t have it back yet, sir, but I have her in my sights,” I answer, trying to ignore the swelling need to hang up my phone. “What have you learned on your end?” I hedge, wanting any information he has on her.
“You know as well as I do that the Regime doesn’t know shit about these people. We don’t know where they live, where their headquarters are, or who is backing them.”
I sigh. I’m thankful he doesn’t have a lock on her, but what do I say to that? I don’t say anything and let him go on.
“That’s all we need, a bunch of armed Insurgents. What the fuck are you going to do about it, Chalmers?”
“Do you have anything for me to track her down? I’m going to need some cash if I’m going to get help in locating her,” I offer. Already the thought of finding her is calming me. Knowing that I’ll be the one tracking her and no one else eases my racing mind.
“We don’t have shit for you. Just do your job and get your gun back. Kill the little bitch with it,” The Leader shouts into the phone before he hangs up.
I chuck the phone across the room at the thought of a hair on her head being harmed. I barely miss a surprised nurse who just came to check on me. These random attacks are getting brazen. The Regime talks a big game of retaliation, but they’re starting to put less money behind these promises. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m going to get her myself, with or without their help.
The nurse, a small woman with a kind face and calming voice, tells me the scan shows no concussion and I’m free to go.
“You’re all set. If you feel anything change as the day goes on, please come back and see us to check you over again.”
“I’m sorry about throwing my phone,” I mumble as I glance at her name tag.
It says Minnie Payne, R.N., ill. The “ill.” stands for “illegitimate.” She was raised on the outside. Not a part of our world within the wall.
“Happens all the time,” she says, shrugging.
An illegitimate working as a nurse? Good for her. Something about her kindness makes me want to repay the favor. I nod to her nametag and hand her a food voucher from my bag. She looks at me for half a second and then holds up her hands, refusing to take it. It’s a bold move on her part. If anything, she could barter this like gold on the streets.
“That’s not what I’m after,” she says, her voice low and hesitant.
“What do you need?” I ask. I wasn’t expecting this kind of response, but now I’m curious.
With no hesitancy, she says, “I need someone killed.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. After the morning I’ve had, how can I not. “So do I, lady.”
She took a risk by asking a high-ranking official like me for something like this. She must be really desperate. I look down and see her wringing her hands, then back to the “illegitimate” name tag. This woman has most likely gotten this job through lots of hard work and pushing against the system. I see kindness in her eyes, but I also see strength and maybe a touch of fear. I have my own demons, but there is a part of me that will never truly be a part of the Regime. It’s something I can’t say out loud, and it’s the reason I’m going to help her.
“Let me take care of mine, and then I’ll see about yours,” I answer solemnly, and she smiles at me. “I’ll be in touch.” I nod at her.
I make my way out of the room and down the long hall of the hospital wing. When I walk by a couple sitting together on a bench, my thoughts drift back to Insurgent Number One.
I’m not a young buck anymore. The Regime overlooked the fact that I’m not married, due to my dedicated public service. I politely declined dates with the women The Leader brought to me. They were all intelligent, well spoken, and charming in their own way. They just didn’t spark my interest. My rejection of these women always came back to the same thing. They were property of the Regime. Enthusiastic followers of the status quo without fire in their bellies. There was no attraction for me. I never felt anything. In fact, it turned me off and made my stomach turn because
I don’t think a lot of those women wanted to be there either, being offered up for marriage.
The Leader saw me as a useful single person, but that wouldn’t last forever. There had been hints around the office lately that it was time for me to breed. They wanted insurance, which meant they wanted my good genes passed down to more little soldiers to hold up their power structure. And that meant they would be picking an approved mate for me from the Ladies University soon.
Someone with class and breeding. She would be well built but not overly curvy or underweight. She would be taught to carry herself like a lady, wear the approved dresses and skirts, and her hair would be long. She would smile and pay attention when men talked, and she would speak only when spoken to. The list of qualifications that The Regime had for workers’ mates went on and on. Their checklist didn’t exactly match mine, but someone else matched what I wanted. Well what I know I want as of a few hours ago. It hit me just as hard as she had.
The chick who clocked me this morning has none of the qualifications The Regime prizes. But something about her knocked me on my ass, with or without that fist of hers.
When I get outside, I stop in my tracks. Immediately I recognize something. The dog.
There’s a big scruffy dog walking along the street, the same one I noticed this morning. It looks like it probably lives off scraps, but seeing it trotting along behind a pair of combat boots has my cock heating up. I scan upward, and sure enough, I spot raggedy fishnet stockings on a pair of long legs. The rest of her is hidden by a long hoodie, but I’d know that ass anywhere, and I also know what’s hiding under that hoodie.
“Well, fuck me,” I mutter, watching her walk away.
I debate for half a second whether to throw her over my shoulder right here on the spot or follow her home. I’m supposed to kill her, but I already know my decision on that. There are cameras everywhere, so I can’t be seen capturing her and not bringing her in. So instead of making a scene and risk getting caught, I follow her, knowing I’m already fucked by the decision I just made. I want her protected and I will break the rules to make that happen. I’ve never done something like this before today.
She walks the dog with no leash, and that alone is totally illegal. She doesn’t give a fuck and that makes me smile. She makes her way away from the hospital and to quieter, residential streets. Government workers live here. In fact, she takes me pretty close to my house. Where’s she going? Is she already on her way to another attack? The thought of her with another man has me growling low in my chest. I’m not going to let that happen. She’s mine. She laid that fate on herself this morning.
I speed up to get closer, thinking I can take her down before anything happens. She’s armed with my gun, and I don’t know what she’s capable of. I should call for backup, but I stop myself. I have only my smaller handgun strapped under my shirt, which she’d failed to notice this morning.
I could still call for backup now, but I don’t want anyone else involved or even near her. This is personal. She humiliated me in front my boss and the world. I have to take her down a peg. Several pegs, if necessary. At least enough to where she’s under me with my body pressed against hers. My boxer briefs tighten as I consider how to do that.
Shit, she’s close to my building now. In fact, it’s right there on the left. She’s slowing and I do the same. Then suddenly she’s stopping. Her back still to me. What the fuck is going on?
I pull out my phone and pretend to make a call. But as I keep my eyes on her, it rings in my hand. I hit the button and bring it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, not taking my eyes off her.
“Hello yourself, dipshit.”
I watch as Insurgent Number One turns around holding a phone to her ear.
Chapter Three
Sylvia
I smile and wave at Brad from half a block away. How does he look even hotter after I punched him? Maybe because now he looks like he’s been in battle, giving him a little bit of a rough edge.
“Did you really think I was going to lead you back to my home?” I ask and try to fight a smile.
He’s staring back at me and he’s mad as hell. He looks grumpy because he got caught and something about that is adorable. Although it should probably be menacing. Why does it feel like we are flirting and why aren’t I scared of him?
“You saw me?” he asks in disbelief.
“Really?” I say, smothering my laugh. “You’re like six foot five and 250 pounds. You stand out a little. Like a caveman at a ballet.”
“You’re under arrest. Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he orders, but for some reason there’s no power behind it. I know he won’t hurt me, which is fucking crazy.
“Have you forgotten that I have your pistol?”
He grunts before hanging up the phone. I watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing his hard abs, and pulls out a small handgun. He holds it loosely at his side and I swallow nervously. Oops.
Bo whines out of concern and stands his ground in front of me like a guard dog.
I hold up my hands as Brad walks toward me. My heart is beating faster with each step he takes. As he gets closer his scent hits my nose and I want to moan. He smells clean, with a hint of something sexy. It’s earthy and warm, and I want to rub myself against him so I can have the smell on me, too. It’s not what I expected from a Regime elite. I should hate everything about him, but instead I keep finding new things about him to marvel at.
I lied to myself when I walked to the hospital after the incident this morning. I was telling myself that it was to check and make sure I hadn’t been spotted. I convinced myself that I was covering my tracks, but in reality I knew what I was doing. I was checking on him. The need to know he was okay burned deep in my belly. How is this kind of attraction even possible?
The worst part was the relief I felt when I found out he was okay. But then when I saw him exit, I knew I had messed up. The only thing I could think of was to walk back to his building. I needed him to know that I knew just as much as he did, if not more. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for him to find me after I ditch him.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” I say, feeling bold, and somewhat distracted from how good he smells. I lean in a little, wanting more of that smell.
“I have orders,” he clips through gritted teeth, but he makes no move to grab me. In fact, it looks like he’s trying to keep from touching me.
“Then why have you let me stand here for so long? Why didn’t you call for backup?” I make a point to glance around at the empty street.
Something I said pricked him. “You need to shut up.” His big body leans closer to me, and I feel the pulse between my legs. I suck in a deep breath as excitement runs through my veins.
I cling desperately to the hate I’m supposed to feel for him. “You’re nothing to me but a privileged cocksucker.” I hold my chin up high, refusing to back down. Refusing to let him see the need I’m feeling for him.
He closes the small distance between us. “You think you can talk to me like that?”
“I just did,” I sass back, and I can see his pupils dilate. His breathing grows heavier.
“How about I bring you in for questioning? Do you know what that entails? You’ll be begging me to let you return my gun.”
I challenge him by moving in even closer and pressing my body to his. The hard planes of his muscles push firmly against my hard nipples. I move my lips to his neck so he can feel my breath on him as I speak. “Does it involve a spanking? Because I sure could use one.” I let my breath tickle his neck and watch little goosebumps form there. God, it’s hot seeing his body betray him just like mine is doing to me.
“Fuck,” he rumbles low in his chest. It vibrates my breasts and I gasp in surprise at the feeling.
“Nice talk for a government boy.” I’m pushing all of his buttons and I know it.
“I’m not a boy.”
I glance up to see him staring down my shirt at my tits. No, he�
�s definitely not a boy. “Prove it.” I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I want to see what he’ll do. The throb between my legs has become too intense to ignore.
Am I actually flirting with him? This guy stands for everything I’m against, and my brain is waving red flags all over the place. But my pussy isn’t listening to any of it. All I can see is a hot piece of man meat in front of me with a clean dick and muscles bulging through his clothes. I want to wrap my body around his and have him fuck me into submission. I want him to take me.
Brad grits his teeth and grips my upper arm as he drags me into the building we’ve stopped outside. His building. He punches in a code and the doors open, and Bo slips in with us. The doors lock behind us as he drags me to the elevator.
“No dogs allowed,” he says.
I look back over my shoulder to see Bo sitting obediently by the front door. I nod to him. I know he’ll stay out until I get back. Brad pushes me into the elevator and hits the button for the top floor. As soon as the elevator lurches up, I slip from his grip and hit the floor.
Panic floods my system, and I have to shut my eyes to keep from freaking out.
“Hey!” Brad shouts as he picks me up in his arms and holds me to his chest. One hand comes up to cup my chin. He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” His eyes are full of concern. Gone is the hard guy from moments ago, another man now in his place.
“Why would you care?” I ask, nausea rolling through me.
“I care,” he answers gently. “More than I should,” he mutters.
“I haven’t been on a working elevator since I was, I don’t know, ten years old,” I admit.
“What are you talking about? Why not?” He genuinely has no idea.
“Stop the elevator. I need to take the stairs,” I beg.
He hits another button instantly and we stop on the second floor. He puts me down on my feet and takes my hand as he leads me down a hallway and over to the stairwell.
