He barely knew her and he couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved, so why had he opened himself up to the option? Why the hell had he bought the rubbers? Sex was a sure way to screw up everything. He’d worked so hard to separate himself from the world, and he liked it that way.
“Will’s my only family, and you’ve met him.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m not good for you or any other woman.”
“So what are the condoms for?”
“Just in case.”
She lifted a brow. “In case of what? You need to break glass and put out a fire?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
“You do too know. Admit it. You were thinking about what happened this morning. You want to scratch an itch, and so do I. So what’s the problem? Let’s finish what we started.”
“Let’s say I want to. If that’s the case, that’s all it would be. A fuck. So, do you still want to finish what we started?” Justin held her gaze, waiting for her to back down. Most women would have fled by now. Of course, he had the disadvantage of being her way home in the freezing cold, so he got that she wasn’t going anywhere, but this was her out, and she damn well better take it. He was a man, not an idiot. After several tortured seconds of silence, he spoke up. “A smart girl would tell me to go to hell.”
“That smart girl obviously needs glasses.” The corner of her mouth curled and the damned dimple appeared. “And the way you kiss. I can only guess how you do other things, and I really don’t want to guess, cowboy.”
His heart jumped. Ah, shit. He hadn’t scared her away. He knew it before she opened her mouth and agreed to his non-strings proposition. “Well.” He cleared his throat.
“Who says I want more than what you’re offering? Take me to your place.”
Justin put his truck in gear and pulled back into his lane. This was a big mistake. He knew it, but his ability to say no dissipated the moment he’d met her and she’d taken up residence in his head.
***
Mercy’s back hit the entryway wall. Justin’s hat dropped to the floor behind them, next to the box of condoms that had slipped out of her grasp when he’d grabbed her. In seconds, his hands were up her blouse and he’d unhooked her bra. If they didn’t slow down, it would be over too quickly. This was a one-shot deal, and she sure as hell didn’t want it over too quick. This would not—could not—be personal. More than once would make it that way. No, she wouldn’t let it become that, because in the end, too much rode on getting the story. One time.
And it would be spectacular. Slow and spectacular.
She ran her fingers into his hair and pulled him down to her lips. “Easy, cowboy. We’ve got all day. Gramps will be over visiting the widow until late. He always does.”
“Easy is for later.” Justin’s eyes glittered. His breath brushed her cheek, sending heat pulsing through her. One hand traveled down and snagged her skirt, tugging the fabric up, and his lips pressed to her ear. “Right now, I plan to screw you against this wall. You got a problem with that?”
Her heart knocked against her tonsils. Damn, the man was sexy. Okay, maybe a quickie plus one. Certainly twice wouldn’t hurt.
“Well, do you?”
She shook her head and he locked on with a kiss that turned her to mush. Soft yet demanding, and oh so delicious. It didn’t take a genius to see he’d been alone way too long. The heat between them, he had to feel it, because she sure as hell did.
His hand slipped up her thigh. Rough calluses of a warrior turned ranch hand grazed her tender flesh, sending ripples of heat washing over her. Two fingers pushed under the thin strip of silk and ripped her thong off with a tug. He dropped the shredded garment at her feet. One good turn deserved another. She grinned, reached down, yanked his belt off and tore his fly open, taking him in hand, eliciting a groan.
“Condoms,” Justin said, obviously on the same wavelength.
Mercy nodded down. Justin followed her gaze and turned back to her. “I feel like I’m making a big mistake. Is it, Mercy?”
“No.” If he had any idea who she was, this wouldn’t be happening. He needed the sex. She needed the story—and the sex. It was a mutual thing, and there was no reason why she should feel guilty about it. Besides, she wanted this as much as he did. The fire was there. The sex would be good. He was using her and had made it clear that was what this was about. So, why couldn’t she use him a little? They both had a little dirt on their consciences, but a mistake? No way in hell. “It’s not.”
He stared back at her, as though trying to determine if she told the truth, weighing his options. The hesitation, wariness. The man had trust issues. They’d have to work on that.
“This isn’t a mistake,” she said slowly, giving him time to absorb what she said. She leaned in and nipped his jaw. “Harmless.” She nipped again. “Dirty.” One more time. “Debauchery.” Without this story, she could kiss the anchorwoman position she’d clawed her way up the media ladder to get—good-bye. He needed the comfort of a woman’s arms; she had to have the story.
“Good, because I’ve made enough of them.” He stooped down and grabbed the box, tore it open, and pulled out several packs.
Mercy ripped one from his hand and quickly got the dirty work done, sheathing him. Little zips of electricity moved through her at the contact. He grabbed her hips and lifted her until the head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and then gravity did what it did best. She slid down on him slowly.
“You feel awesome.” She groaned and wrapped her legs around his hips as he held her pinned to the wall, buried deep inside her. So wet, she offered little resistance. He stretched her, filled her. Owned her. Mercy tipped her hips and ground into him, impatient for more. He didn’t even twitch, but remained like stone.
God, he was strong. She’d never had a guy do her against the wall like this, and he made her feel light, like feathers. Still, the statue thing wasn’t working. “You got to move or something, ’cause this is getting awkward.”
“It’s been forever since I’ve done this. I’d almost forgotten what a woman felt like.” He rocked into her, banging her ass against the wall. “And I’d like….” He drew back and slammed in again. “To thank you for reminding me. God, baby, awesome doesn’t begin to describe it.” He buried his head in her neck and froze again, his breath tickling her flesh. “Not going to last long.”
Mercy hooked his jaw with her finger and lifted his eyes to hers. “Shut up and do me. You can impress me with your endurance later.”
A slow smile curled his mouth. Yeah, and he would. That look said everything. So much for a quickie plus one.
As promised, he didn’t rock her world the first time. But the second, third, and fourth certainly could have qualified him to compete for gold in the horizontal tango, had it been an Olympic event.
They’d started in the hall against the wall, made their way into the kitchen and on the table, the couch in the front room, and finally into his bed, knotting his sheets around them as they explored every position in the Kama Sutra, and then some.
Several hours later, he rested his weight on his elbows and pressed his forehead to hers. “I needed that.”
“Care to finally show me where you keep the soap?”
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “I want to see you again, but for a date, not just sex—not that I don’t want to see you again for that, too.”
Mercy’s mouth started to drop open, but she quickly shut it. Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that. What had happened to not looking for a wife or girlfriend? “Are you changing your policy?” Could she handle it?
“I don’t know. I want to see more of you. Maybe we can start as friends.”
“With benefits.” Yes, she could. And this was how she’d get the story. Between friends wouldn’t be a bad thing. And before she asked for his tale, she planned to let him know what she really did for a living, anyway. Seeing him again wouldn’t be a bad thing.
He
smiled. “That works. Why don’t we grab that shower, and I’ll fix you dinner before you head back to your grandfather’s?”
“Dinner. I’m impressed. What’s on the menu?”
“Canned beans and hot dogs. I’m not the greatest cook, but it’s not that bad if you have it with ketchup.”
Mercy wrinkled her nose. “Ketchup?”
“Don’t you know everything tastes better with ketchup?”
“Oh, you’re one of those kinds of guys. I know you.” She pointed. “You’re trying to sucker me into cooking something, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “Guilty. I’d do anything for a home-cooked meal.”
“Anything?” Her heart pounded in her chest. Funny, sexy, interesting, and he inadvertently offered to give her the world. What more could a girl ask for?
“Anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Now about that soap.”
Chapter Four
All species capable of grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than a lion, which hunts alone.
~Christian Lous Lange
“You better have a damn good reason for bothering me on a Sunday at this hour.”
“It’s not Sunday, it’s Monday morning, and yes, I have a damn good reason. I found him, Carson.” Little butterflies flitted in her stomach. Mercy cracked her bedroom door and peered out. Her grandfather snored in his easy chair with Bear and Sadie sleeping by his feet.
His back bothered him, and rarely did he sleep in his room anymore, which meant she’d have to keep the conversation down. Gramps might be old, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. The last thing she needed was for him to find out what she was up to.
“Found who? Need I remind you that you’ve been suspended and most likely won’t be working for this station once we settle that lawsuit?”
“Forget firing me. You’ll be ready to promote me once you hear who I’ve found.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. Who?”
“I’ve found the missing hero. Sergeant Justin Redway, and I’m going to get an exclusive interview with him.”
There was a hiss of breath and barely contained excitement. “You do know that Redway has refused to talk to the press about what happened?”
“I’m aware, but I can be real persuasive. He’ll talk to me. We’re friends.”
“He better. Bring me that story and we’ll forget everything that’s happened before.”
“Give me a few weeks to get closer to him, and I’ll bring the you an exclusive account of what happened, wrapped up with a bow.”
“You’re a ruthless bitch, Mercy.”
“Not this time. He really is my friend.”
“Don’t screw this job up, friend or not. It’s your last chance. The station won’t give you another. I’ll do what I can to keep you from being fired, but you’re not going to be collecting a paycheck. If I don’t have the story in two months, don’t bother coming back or calling.”
“You’ll have it.” She punched a button and disconnected. So much to do and so little time to accomplish what she needed. She rubbed her forehead. Tomorrow she’d go to the library in Evans Point, one of the few buildings still standing. It would give her a place to work without her grandfather asking questions.
But she’d still be watched. She’d have to be careful. Some of the residents worried she’d leak their secret. Even though what they were doing was interesting, it wasn’t the story she was after.
***
Mercy parked a block away from the library and walked. Everywhere, areas were fenced off for construction, or to prevent access to the hidden shelter. Someone pulled open a curtain and peered out, quickly letting it drop shut when she looked in their direction.
And that would be the Cooperative watch. Mercy smiled and waved, pulling her coat shut and continuing down the street. Of course they’d be on the phone with Granddad by now, so she’d check out some recipe books, to give a reason for her trip, and maybe a pick up a book for training Dog, too.
Even though she was Will’s granddaughter, many were not crazy about her being in on the big secret, since they knew what she did for a living. Regardless, she had no desire to expose them and had told them so.
After the storm, a few stayed, mostly families that had lived in the area for generations. The railroad pulled out instead of rebuilding, taking one of the only sources of gainful employment that would entice anyone not a farmer or rancher to stay. Most of the population had gone with the railroad in a massive exodus the previous year. A white-water rafting company remained and catered to tourists traveling to and from Yellowstone. A survivalist camp run by a retired Navy SEAL still operated in the area, but not in town. The residents of Evans Point weren’t big fans of his either, afraid his business would draw attention to their project.
There were a couple of restaurants, bars, and inns; three gas stations owned by outside companies that hired locals and didn’t have a clue what the town was really about, but otherwise those who’d put their roots down were from families who’d lived in Evans Point for generations.
They pulled together and bought what was left of the town, using disaster relief funds to rise from the destruction. Now a cooperative, they intended to refurbish the entire bomb shelter and rebuild the businesses above it. The next time a storm or any other disaster came their way, they’d be prepared.
Some would call them doomsday preppers if they knew the activities of the residents, but in reality, they were just a tight-knit community that didn’t want to see what had happened before happen again. They’d found a way to make a living off it and keep their piece of heaven.
The underground bomb shelter, and prepping, had become their passion. Left behind when the government decommissioned Evans Point Army Airfield in the forties, few of the townspeople even knew the steel-and-concrete fortress existed. Well, until a few old-timers had told them about it. The Cooperative built a fence around the area, keeping strangers from passing through and visitors from discovering their secret until the new construction over it was complete.
The massive shelter ran underneath the entire downtown area. Many entrances still existed in the brick-and-mortar basements of the downtown businesses left standing after the tornados, and would be there in the basements of the new structures as well. By all accounts, it would look like any other town in America on the outside, and the community wanted to keep it that way.
The snow had held up the construction for most of the winter, but as weather began to change and the snow and ice thawed, the work would be back on. Most of the construction to date was underground, cleaning up the old shelter, expanding and adding additional rooms, new electrical, ventilation, and plumbing. When done, the shelter would sustain a population of up to one thousand people. It was literally a town underneath the town, complete with medical facilities, food storage, showers and apartments, recreational rooms, a gym, Olympic-sized pool, and communications facilities. If a major, worldwide disaster occurred, the locals could go underground for months. Even now, they enjoyed the pool and had a few electric golf carts below, used to move supplies and people around. They’d decorated the individual apartments, furnished with their belongings, giving their quarters the feel of home.
Natural gas was piped in from several wells drilled by locals, providing fuel to operate generators and boilers, giving them a limitless supply of power and heat.
Under the head of the main street was a hydroponic greenhouse that took up at least an acre of the underground facility. A caretaker hand-pollinated and maintained the plants. The use of grow lights and a misting system would help to provide fresh vegetables and fruits to complement their already impressive food stores and bring a little nature to the underground. The residents already had plants growing and producing crops. Even a seed supply was maintained and rotated.
The hydroponic conservatory was the brainchil
d of an out-of-work NASA scientist who’d settled in the area a year before. And he was only one of many who added their talents to the Cooperative. Mercy climbed the stairs to the library and went inside. She’d grab a few magazines, comb through some newspaper articles, and find that book for Justin to train his puppy.
Maybe something among the shelves or in the various newspapers and magazines would help her understand what had happened to the hero and prepare her for the interview.
***
Justin turned his head as Mercy came up behind him in the barn. Four in the morning and she should be in bed. The dim light cast a halo over her. She wore a parka, unzipped and open. A soft green sweater hugged her curves. Fitted jeans clung to her hips and thighs, dropping down to a well-loved pair of cowboy boots, scuffed and faded. On her head she wore a stocking cap, something a grandma would have knit, making her look the American girl next door. A light dusting of snowflakes clung to the yarn like powdered sugar.
“Hi,” she said and leaned against the door next to where he saddled his horse. She crossed her arms over her breasts, and let her gaze drift over him in a sultry slide. Soft puffs of steam came from her mouth as she inhaled and exhaled.
“Hi yourself.” He smiled back.
“I looked for you up at the bunkhouse.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He tightened the cinch on the horse’s girth and gave the saddle a shake.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”
“There are some things I can’t explain.” He shrugged. And he couldn’t. His life may not have flashed before him in Afghanistan when he’d thought he was going to die, but since then, not a second of his existence had been free from it. He replayed that morning over and over in his head, unable to stop the reruns. “This is one of those things. The ride helps me to clear my head.”
“Where’s your puppy?”
“Dog? She’s sleeping in front of the fire.” She’d groaned when he’d asked her if she wanted to go, lifting her head and giving him a look that said are you crazy? He didn’t blame her. The temperature outside had dipped below zero. Still, the company would have been nice. He eyed Mercy, remembering all too well the afternoon they’d shared, already wanting to hold her again. “Care to go for a ride with me?”
Finding Mercy Page 5
