by Sylvia Ryan
Van lifted an arm and caressed his palm across her cheek. In response, Grace leaned her head into his hand, nuzzling it for a moment. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed his touch, caressing her cheek against his fingers. It was such a beautiful response to his simple gesture. He smiled at her, but she seemed intent on not looking at his face. She just kept at her task.
Van stared at the mountain of wipes on the floor next to Grace after she had finished cleaning him. His erection was throbbing. Without a word, she turned her back to him and stooped over the bed to care for Sarge in the same way that she’d just done for him. He ached as he watched her ass from his position on the floor while she tended to the other man.
He had to squash the impulse to grab her and pull her down onto him. Van’s erection was throbbing. He didn’t like her touching Sarge, and a surge of jealousy rushed through him. He found himself clenching his fists and throwing eye daggers at the unconscious man and was relieved when Grace finally finished with him and cleared away all of the bloodstained wipes.
Van’s eyes tracked her to the other side of the room. In the shadows, she pulled her shirt over her head and started wiping herself clean. The small white cloths she pulled out of the tub turned a rusty color as they stained with blood. She rubbed them over the white skin of her breasts and arms, revealing a little more of her perfection with every swipe. Her nipples were puckered, small and pink, and he could see the individual bumps in her spine when she bent over slightly. He longed to run his tongue down the hills and valleys of her vertebrae, leaving a wake of moisture behind to blow on.
Van was brought out of his fantasy by the sound of footfalls above him. He watched as Grace reacted to the sound of the intruder. She straightened and stood motionless, following the steady sound of footsteps through the house. Then she glanced at him. She smiled with cool assuredness reflected in her eyes, as if she were trying to wordlessly comfort him. She lifted a finger and touched it to her lips in a silent shh.
* * * *
Grace was naked from the top up when she heard footsteps overhead. She froze, listened, and then picked up her gun.
She looked at the two men on the other side of the room. Sarge was still out, but Van was already looking at her, and he seemed ready to jump from his makeshift bed. She motioned him to be quiet.
“Where’s my rifle?” he mouthed.
She walked over to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the rifle that lay among his flak jacket and other articles she’d stripped off him the night before.
“I got this,” she whispered. She handed him his rifle. “Just in case.”
A rustling noise at the top of the steps caught her attention. Grace moved toward the bottom of the stairs, off to the side so that the intruder wouldn’t see her right away. Grace lifted her gun and aimed toward the false wall that was slowly being pulled away.
It felt like she waited an eternity, withholding her shot.
Her finger rested lightly on the trigger. Her heart thumped in her chest as she emotionally steeled herself to shoot another man.
“Sarge?” the intruder at the top of the stairs called. “Sarge, it’s me, Luke. Are you down there?”
Grace took her finger off the trigger but didn’t lower her gun. She stepped into the man’s field of vision.
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Who are you?” he asked as if she was the one who didn’t belong. After he stepped through the cubby hole, his eyes lowered to her nude upper body.
“Put the wall back up,” she ordered, still pointing her gun at him.
“Where’s Sarge?” The man’s tone became menacing.
“He’s here. Now put the damn wall back up!” she shot back.
Luke followed directions and then proceeded slowly down the stairs. Grace stepped away and moved over to her clothes. She slipped her shirt on, knowing that Van was covering the man as he neared the bottom of the steps.
Luke caught sight of Sarge and Van. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you people?” He walked over to the bed and immediately started to look Sarge over. “What happened?” He turned to Grace. “What happened?” the man demanded again. He was becoming aggressive, and Grace second-guessed lowering her gun. Then he stopped and cocked his head. He stared at her for a moment. The expression on his face softened. “You’re Ethan’s daughter.”
Grace’s body relaxed at the sound of her father’s name. “Yes. Grace. My name is Grace.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Have we met?”
“No, I recognize you from a picture Ethan showed me a couple of years ago. You look like him.” He stepped backward, abandoning his aggressiveness, and smiled. “I’m Luke Evers.”
Grace nodded. “Hi. This is Van.” She gestured toward him. “He saved Sarge’s life last night. Helped me get him back to the house after he went down.”
“Shot?”
Grace nodded. “In the thigh. I dug out the bullet, stitched it closed, and started him on antibiotics this morning. The bleeding has stopped. I think he’ll be okay.” Grace motioned to Van. “Van was shot, too, in the shoulder. Not as bad as Sarge’s wound, though.” She paused. “I’ll let you two get acquainted. I have to finish cleaning up.” She turned her back to the men and went back over to the dimly lit corner of the room and stripped off her shirt again.
She didn’t look back to see if they were watching her and really didn’t give a shit at this point. It had been a long night. She was dragging ass, hadn’t eaten anything since…sometime the day before, and she’d gotten little sleep. She was toast.
Standing in her thong, she finished cleaning herself, thankful to get the creepy feeling from the film of dried blood off before slipping into a T-shirt. Luke and Van murmured their conversation on the other side of the room. She wasn’t paying attention, staying in her dim corner instead of rejoining the men. She sat on the cold cement floor with her back up against the wall. She felt used up, empty, and just wasn’t up to dealing with those two right now. She didn’t want to talk with Luke about her dad. She didn’t want to talk about herself. She wanted to withdraw.
Grace tucked her knees up under her chin, rested her head on top of them, and then sank into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Chapter 12
“Wake the fuck up, man. You’ve hogged the bed long enough.”
Sarge half opened his eyes and looked up. “Luke,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again. Then, before Luke could make another rude effort to interrupt Sarge’s slumber, his eyes flew open. “What are you doing here?” Sarge looked around. His eyes lingered on Van for a moment. “Where’s Grace?”
Luke gestured toward Grace, who was propped up against the wall in a darkened corner of the shelter.
“What the fuck? Why are you letting her sleep on the floor?”
“Why do you think I woke your lazy ass up? Dickhead.” Luke chuckled. “Still as surly as ever I see.”
Luke helped Sarge into the chair next to the bed and then strode over to where Grace sat sleeping. He easily lifted her into his arms. She burrowed her head into him and rested a limp hand on his chest. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who greeted him, armed and ready to kill him just an hour before. His cock stirred as he carried her back to the bed, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the memory or the feel of her in his arms. He placed her gently in the bed and covered her with the blanket.
“She yours?” he asked Sarge when he moved over to the men a few feet away.
“No. I promised Ethan I’d get her if something happened while he was away. Never met her before the EMP.”
Sarge looked to Van. “What happened? I don’t remember much.”
“Sniper. I was hit first”—he gestured toward his shoulder—“but only on the shoulder. I covered Grace when I went down. You were shot just a few seconds later. Grace and I dragged you back to the house. Then I dropped in the kitchen. The next thing I know, I woke up down here listening to her yelling at you to
swallow an antibiotic.”
Sarge’s gaze landed on the blister packs of antibiotics lying on the small table between them. He picked them up. “Where’d she get these?”
Van shrugged. “I assumed you had them stored down here somewhere.”
“No.”
Luke watched Sarge’s face harden, and then a split second later, Van’s did, too.
“She went out for them. Motherfucker,” Sarge spat and pounded his fist of the arm of his chair. “That woman doesn’t listen for shit.”
“Sounds like she saved your lives. And, for the record, she was ready to put herself between me and you when I pulled open the door. She was a sight to see.” Luke chuckled. “Topless, covered with caked-up blood, yelling at me with that quiet little voice, and pointing a nine millimeter at me. I would have gotten a boner if she hadn’t had the drop on me.”
“Topless?” Sarge’s eyes darted to Van.
“Luke caught her in the middle of washing the blood off.”
They were silent for a minute.
Sarge looked down at the dressing on his thigh and started pulling at it.
“Hold up there.” Luke reached into a pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. “Slice the gauze with this.”
Sarge exposed his wound. “Only an entrance. Looks like she cut it open to get the bullet out.” He examined his stitches. “It actually looks good,” he said, surprised.
“Mine was in and out. She stitched me up, too. What I can’t figure out is how she got us down that flight of stairs.”
Sarge glanced at the flight of stairs then at Grace’s sleeping form on the bed. “Ethan would be proud of her.” He turned back to Luke. “So what happened to you? Why are you here?”
“Fire. My whole block burned down. The shelter was intact, but precarious when I left.”
“Well, you’re welcome here, you know that. Ethan’s shelter is still full and we can always raid yours if we need to, after things die down out there. I have plenty of food for all of us to make it through the winter and beyond, if need be.” Sarge looked at Van. “What about you?”
“I think I’m on my own. I haven’t seen any military since the day of the EMP. Should have at least heard from my commander by now. But…” He shook his head. “I think this mayhem is going to take a while for them to wade through.”
Sarge nodded. “You’re welcome here, too. It’s the least I can do for saving my life.”
* * * *
When Grace opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed and Sarge was sitting in the chair next to her.
“Come lay down with me,” she said as she lifted the edge of the blanket so Sarge could slide in.
He heaved himself up and over to the bed in one smooth move, but still grimaced in pain as he swung his legs around and under the blanket.
They lay facing each other, their noses just inches apart.
“How’s your leg?”
Sarge didn’t answer right away. He just studied her face. His eyes roamed. His features were serious, penetrating. It seemed like the look contained intimacy and rage, approval and disapproval. Was he mad at her?
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“You left the shelter alone.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “I had to. You’ll die without antibiotics.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t, Grace. You promised me.” Sarge’s low rumble intensified as he continued. “After what happened last night, you should know better. Nothing is worth the risk of leaving the shelter right now. Nothing, not me, not anything. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened to you out there.”
“I think the blood loss has affected your thinking. I saved your ass last night, remember?”
“Actually, I don’t,” he said in an oh-so-sexy rumble and smart-ass smirk on his face.
“Maybe you should give up the handsome-hero-coming-to-the-rescue-of-the-damsel-in-distress mentality and give me some credit.”
“You know I’m trying, Gracie.”
“Are you ever going to stop treating me like you have to protect me?” she whispered.
“Never.” He flashed a rare grin at her. “You saved my life. I owe you now.” Sarge trailed his hand up to her waist.
Grace closed her eyes and soaked up his nearness. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she choked out as she returned her gaze to his.
They lay there eye to eye in an intimate, comfortable hug until Sarge broke the silence and the building heat between them. “Van and Luke are staying.”
“Where are they?”
“In the backyard. Luke has an idea about security around the perimeter that will keep people out.”
For a split second, Grace saw emotions play over Sarge’s face before he spoke again. “We worked out a schedule for the bed. You’ll sleep in the bed every night, and we’ll rotate sharing with you.”
“I don’t have to sleep on the bed every night. I’ll rotate, too. I got some inflatable rafts at the drug store. They’ll provide some cushion to whoever’s on the floor.”
“Do you have a problem sharing?”
Grace smiled. He actually sounded hopeful. “No. Not really. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
He was silent apparently waiting for her to say something else, but she didn’t.
“Well, everything’s all worked out now. That’s what you get for sleeping through the meeting. I’m not about to open that can of worms again.” Sarge nearly growled the last few words and then took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “Three men, one woman, not exactly the ideal situation for any of us.”
“What are you trying to say, Sarge?”
“I’m saying that there’s bound to be some competition for your affection.”
“Well, you guys can walk all over each other trying to get to me, but I’m not planning on having a relationship with anyone,” she said tenderly. “You know that.”
A look of irritation transformed his face. “You told me where we stand. You didn’t tell me why.”
“No one reason, really, it’s a combination of a lot of things.”
“Bullshit,” he said softly. “Tell me.”
Grace looked at Sarge and then looked away. She was living an I-reject-you-before-you-reject-me life. That’s the way it was and would be, no matter what her heart wanted. History had shown that her heart didn’t know jack shit about what was good for her.
When her gaze returned to him, he raised his eyebrows and rumbled, “What is it?”
Grace took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Men’s egos have a difficult time with a self-sufficient, independent woman. They want someone who needs them. Someone who they can be a knight in shining armor to. Even though I may look like it and sound like it, that’s not me, and after a while, most men come to the conclusion that they didn’t get the woman they thought they were getting. They’d rather have someone who needs them, depends on them.” She shrugged. “I mostly depend on myself. It’s a ballbuster and a turn-off for most guys after the newness wears off and they get to know me better. You know my dad. He didn’t raise me to be any other way.”
“I like those qualities about you.”
“No. You may think you do, but it won’t last long. Never does.” Her voice sounded weird, overly flat, even to her own ears.
Sarge cupped the nape of Grace’s neck and pulled her face closer to his. His eyes were dark, dangerous. “Don’t condemn me because of another asshole’s actions.” Sarge guided Grace’s head closer to him. She struggled to pull away, but he held fast to the nape of her neck, not allowing her the distance. “You have feelings for me. I can feel it,” he rasped. He brought her head forward, closing the gap between their lips.
Sarge detonated a destructive kiss on her lips, forcing her mouth open with the invasion of his tongue. She suddenly wasn’t trying to pull away any longer. In fact, she couldn’t stop herself from moaning into his mouth in response.
He smoothed his hand
over the curve of her rear, raising goose bumps on her skin, and then shifted his hand lower until the tips of his fingers were between her legs and his palm was resting lightly over the crack of her ass. He pulled her to him, grinding her into his good thigh.
“I need to be inside you, Gracie.”
“No. I…” She shook her head. “There’s just too much going on. I’ve got too much on my mind.”
“Your kiss felt like you had all the right things on your mind.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that and then turned you down.”
“Don’t apologize for kissing me, Gracie.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, locking eyes with him.
Sarge let out a chuckle. “I think I’ll be hurting more if you continue to shut me down.”
Grace wasn’t sure he was picking up on what she really meant. “I’m not talking about your leg.”
“I know.” Sarge paused, his black eyes looking directly into her soul. “I’ve heard you loud and clear, Grace. Whatever my heart decides to do is not your responsibility. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. And right now, I’m going to take care of both of us.” His tone held authority, as if he’d given her an order, and he looked at her with eyes that told her he was dead serious. He weakened her resolve talking to her like that. Lying next to him in bed, his edict was damn hard to refuse, and she suddenly didn’t really want to. Grace needed the contact and the comfort after the night she’d had. She needed to feel the security of a man’s body. She sighed in resignation. How was she ever going to be able to say no to this man? By just looking at her, he controlled her like a doll, his own personal life-sized Barbie doll. And she had no defense against him.
