Holmes

by Anna Hackett

  “Are you okay, General?”

  He nodded. “Thanks to you. And under the circumstances, I think you should call me Adam.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome, Adam.”

  He got to his feet, his body aching. Damn, he was getting too old for this. He might only be in his early forties, but since the invasion, most days he felt like a hundred and three.

  Liberty grabbed his arm and steadied him. “Take a minute before you stride off to do boss-man things.”

  He glanced down at her. God, he wasn’t that old that he needed the most beautiful woman in camp propping him up. “I’m fine.”

  He stared at the convoy. It looked like the alien spiders had been contained. People were helping the injured and consoling the frightened. The squads were stacking the spider corpses in a pile.

  “Dammit.” His neck throbbed and the sick feeling of failure rose. His gaze snagged on the handful of dead bodies lying around.

  “General.” Elle ran toward him. “The squads are awaiting orders. They’ve contained the spider creatures…do we just leave them, burn them, or bury them?”

  “General Holmes!” Doc Emerson was striding over. “I have more wounded than I can fit on the medical bus. We need a secondary vehicle. Thankfully, most of the wounds are minor, but I have two who are in a serious condition. A woman with neck burns and a man with burns to his legs.”

  Adam drew in a deep breath and ran his hand over his hair. Damn, his hair really was getting too long—it had gone well past regulation length. He saw Liberty watching him, her blue eyes laser-sharp. He dropped his hand.

  “Emerson, talk to Captain Bladon…Laura. She has no one in the prison truck at the moment, so you can put some of the wounded in there.” He turned to Elle. “Tell the squad leaders to have their teams bury the alien corpses. Hide them well. I’d prefer the raptors don’t find out we’d been here.”

  Elle nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “And Elle, do you or the drone team think the aliens know our location?” He scanned the mess of their camp. “Did they send those things here on purpose?”

  Elle shook her head. “No, sir. Lia said her drone operators have noted lots of these ball-like things all over the area. And pteros appear to be randomly bombing areas just south of here.”

  Damn. “They’re taking pot shots, hoping they get lucky and hit us. Force us to reveal our location.”

  Elle nodded. “That’s our assessment, sir.”

  They had to get to the safety of the Enclave. “Tell the squads I’ll address them all shortly and please inform everyone to get ready to move out.” The sooner they got to the Enclave, the better.

  “Everyone needs you, don’t they?”

  Liberty’s quiet voice made him raise his head. “I’m the leader. It’s my job.” But he knew the truth—while they needed his skills and his leadership, no one actually needed him, Adam, the man.

  Liberty tilted her head and damn, he felt like he was under a microscope. He knew she was an expert at keeping the civilians happy, anticipating their needs, providing a black market of sorts in beauty products and toiletries. Most people might write that off as unimportant, but he knew differently.

  Just having a bar of soap, a spritz of perfume, or a bottle of shampoo that smelled like home, helped soften the harsh edges of their new lives.

  He suspected Liberty was well aware of the impact.

  “I think it’s far more than a job for you,” she said.

  Before he could answer her, Marcus strode up.

  “General.” He gave a brief nod. His armor was splattered with alien blood. “Liberty.”

  “Hey, Marcus.” She stepped backward. “I’ll go and help with the injured.”

  Adam watched the swing of her hips as she walked away. He’d always thought he preferred tall, slim women, like his ex-wife. But his gaze was drawn to Liberty’s rounded curves and lush femininity.

  “My squad’s supervising burying the carcasses of those ugly little things.” Marcus’ voice was a growl.

  “How many dead?” Adam asked.

  They both knew he wasn’t talking about the alien spiders.

  “Four. One missing. A teen. He either ran off to hide or…”

  Adam released a long breath. Or he got dragged off. “Bury our dead. But nowhere near the damn spiders. Send a team to search for the boy. If they think he’s left the illusion, send Devlin Gray to find him.” The former spy was part of their intel team. The man could sneak in just about anywhere without being noticed. Tough choices rose again. “We can’t afford to stay here much longer. Find him, Marcus.”

  The soldier nodded. “We’ll find him.”

  Otherwise, Adam would be forced to save the lives of the others and leave another family broken-hearted and a kid out there to die.

  Another black mark on his soul.

  “Wherever we make camp tonight,” Marcus said, “I’ll buy you a homebrew. You look like you need it.”

  Adam nodded, but they both knew he wouldn’t take Marcus up on the beer.

  The squad leader made to leave, then hesitated. “You have friends here.”

  Adam dragged in a deep breath. Coming from a soldier he respected, one he’d butted heads with numerous times, it meant a lot. “Thanks, Marcus.”

  With a nod, Marcus strode away.

  But Adam knew Marcus was wrong. Adam didn’t have friends here. He had subordinates, civilians and followers. He couldn’t afford friends—for his sake and theirs. He had to make the hard choices, the choices that meant lives, and he knew he’d be forced to make more before this war was over. That meant he couldn’t afford to be anyone’s friend.

  Shaking off his foul mood, he walked among the people, offering words of comfort and encouragement. He saw shoulders straighten, faint smiles emerge and people nod. That had to be enough to sustain him.

  He rounded a vehicle and heard two people arguing. He spotted Shaw and Claudia, both in their armor. Claudia had her hands on her hips, her face set, while Shaw looked like he was trying not to laugh. They traded a few barbs, then Shaw swept her into his arms, slamming his mouth on hers.

  She fought him, for about two seconds, then her strong legs clamped onto his hips and she kissed him back.

  Adam swallowed. He’d allowed her to sacrifice herself, had almost cost these two their piece of heaven in the chaos.

  He turned away, unable to watch any longer. The pressure felt like it was driving him into the ground. God, he really needed a double-strength coffee. Maybe tonight, he’d allow himself a shot of the cheap Scotch Whiskey he had hidden in his truck. He’d run out of the good stuff a long time ago.

  But for now, he dredged up some strength from somewhere deep inside of him and raised his voice. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get ready to move out.” He’d brief the squads, send them out to risk their lives creating diversions, and hoped to God the missing boy was found before they left.

  ***

  Liberty climbed out of her truck and stretched her legs.

  Her home on this crazy road trip for the last week or so had been a converted RV she shared with some of the schoolteachers and other single ladies. It was cramped, and by the end of each day, they were mostly all ready to kill each other.

  She looked around and watched others getting out of their vehicles, dragging tents and bedding with them. They had stopped for the night at what looked like an abandoned farm. She glanced through the deepening twilight and decided the straight rows of trees in the distance were an orchard.

  She spotted a slim figure heading closer to the trees. As Liberty watched, the woman stroked the trunk of one tree and half turned, a smile on her face, her pale hair like moonlight falling past her shoulders. Liberty still wasn’t sure what to make of the alien woman in their midst. A former prisoner of the raptors, she was a long way from home, and now part of their little band.

  Liberty knew from her few conversations with Selena that the woman was desperately sad. Hell, she had a right to be, knowing th
at there was no way for her to return to her planet. Selena lifted a hand and Liberty’s breath caught. A group of colorful butterflies appeared and fluttered around Selena’s slender fingers. The alien woman laughed.

  With a shake of her head, Liberty focused back on the camp. There was an old farmhouse nearby, flanked by a handful of rusted sheds. Not much, but it would do. She really hoped they reached the Enclave soon and they could get out of these vehicles. There was no privacy, no space…but at least they were alive.

  And it was all because of one man.

  She scanned the growing crowd and spotted him. Even without his uniform, General Adam Holmes still had a straight bearing and an air of authority about him. He was talking with a teenage boy and his family, and whatever he said made them smile. The boy had gone missing in the spider attack but had thankfully been found alive and well.

  The squads helped protect them, the medical team healed them, but Adam Holmes was the one who planned and strategized, and was always working to get them to safety.

  He put an arm around an elderly lady and she leaned into him. He patted her shoulder. He let everyone lean on him.

  But who did he lean on when things got tough?

  And she knew things were tough nearly every day.

  She shook her head. She liked buff soldiers with hard bodies and delicious tattoos. Men who wanted a good time, didn’t demand too much, and didn’t delve where they weren’t welcome. Uncomplicated men she could have fun with. Long before the aliens had invaded, she’d already survived her own version of hell, and when she’d pieced herself back together, she’d vowed to herself that she would enjoy the hell out of life. That every single day, she’d suck the marrow out of it and have fun—whether it was a long, luxurious bubble bath and beautiful lotions, or sexy men and delicious orgasms.

  Even in the middle of this ugly apocalypse, she’d managed to hold on to that promise.

  Her gaze was drawn back to the general…Adam. Something told her he didn’t know the first thing about enjoying anything. It was all responsibility and grave choices with him. She’d seen the lines bracketing his mouth, the strain he was under.

  Without thinking, she headed in his direction.

  As he was walking toward another group, she stepped in front of him.

  He drew up straight. “How are you, Liberty?”

  “Hanging in there. You?”

  A single, decisive nod. “Fine.”

  “You really need a haircut.”

  His hand automatically went to his hair. “It’ll wait.”

  She eyed him. The muscles in his neck were strained, and he looked like he was ready to buckle. “No, I don’t think it can. Come on.” She waved her hand for him to follow.

  “Ms. Lawler…”

  Ooh, that cold, autocratic edge to his voice had to be second nature to him when someone refused to follow his orders.

  “Come on, Adam, in the middle of an alien apocalypse, you can’t call me Ms. Lawler.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  She smothered a smile. “You’re getting in your truck and getting a haircut.”

  He just stood there, looking conflicted.

  “For once, why don’t you let someone else make the decision?” she said. “Just for a little while.”

  “You’re pretty stubborn.”

  “One of my finest qualities.”

  “I doubt that.” After another second, he nodded. “Fine. A haircut would be good.”

  She walked beside him toward his truck. He had his own modified SUV. The area in the back had been raised and converted into a living space with a place to sleep. He opened the door and she peered inside.

  It wasn’t large. A single bunk, neatly made, some built-in shelves and cupboards, which included a comp, and one small stool bolted to the floor.

  She stepped in, turned and sat on the bed. “You sit on the stool. I have enough room to work.”

  He pulled the door closed behind him and lights clicked on automatically.

  He sat on the stool, his back to her and fidgeted a bit.

  Liberty pulled her scissors from her pocket and set them on a small shelf. She was used to carrying them with her everywhere she went.

  He glanced over at them. “They the ones you saved my life with?”

  “Yes.” She touched his hair. She’d been the base’s unofficial hairdresser. It hadn’t been her profession before, just something she’d dabbled with, but she’d had enough practice lately to get pretty good at it.

  Besides, no one was too fussy about their hairstyle in the middle of an alien invasion.

  “Don’t worry. I cleaned them off really well.” She ran her hands through the dark strands of his hair. It was far softer and silkier than she’d imagined. He had a dash of gray at each temple that looked smart and distinguished. It suited him outrageously.

  Liberty shook her head. Smart and distinguished had never been her thing. It had always been muscles, firm butts, and brawny arms. Even her bastard ex-husband—may his soul rot in hell—had been a personal trainer, and even though she hated him, the man had still looked good.

  Adam Holmes was nothing like any man she’d ever been with before.

  She got to work snipping his hair. She wasn’t going to cut it back to military short. It actually suited him a little longer. She’d just tidy him up a bit.

  His head leaned forward a bit. Studying the length of his dark strands, she rested her hands on his shoulders.

  She felt the hard knots and the tension radiating off him. How could he function like this? He had to be in agony.

  She finished the cut and set her scissors down. Then she pressed her hands to his shoulders.

  He groaned before he caught himself. “What are you doing?”

  “How the hell do you get through the day with muscles tensed up harder than rock?”

  “I do what I have to do.” But his head fell forward again, baring his neck to her.

  She dug her fingers in, working the hard knots.

  “God…that is so good.”

  She smiled and kept working away the tension. She moved down a little, his shirt fabric slipping under her fingers and getting in the way. She could feel that his shoulder blades were tense as well.

  “Take off the shirt. It’ll make it easier.”

  He paused. “I’m not sure…”

  She dug her fingers in hard. “Worried I’ll take advantage of you, General?”

  He made a scoffing sound. “I’m hardly your type…and I’m too old for you.”

  She laughed. “I’m thirty-five, Adam, and you’re hardly ancient. Now act like an adult and take your shirt off.”

  He looked back over his shoulder, studied her, then stood. His head brushed the top of the truck. He quickly worked the buttons free. Then he shrugged and the shirt fell to the floor.

  Liberty stilled, her breath catching in her chest.

  He was…built.

  She hadn’t expected the hard, firm, and sleek muscles. He wasn’t bulky like some of the soldiers, but there was definitely strength and a delicious hardness no woman could ignore.

  “You’ve been holding out on me, General.”

  Chapter Three

  Adam sat very still, listening to Liberty’s quiet breathing behind him. He felt like her presence filled up the entire space.

  He heard the interest in her voice, and temptation swirled around him like the scent of his favorite coffee. He hadn’t had a cup of double-shot, white-chocolate mocha since the invasion, and was unlikely to ever have it again.

  He clamped his hands on the edge of the stool beneath him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  A smooth hand slid over his shoulder, reaching over to stroke one side of his chest.

  “Oh, I think you do.” Her nails scratched over his pec. “Who knew you were hiding all this under your starched uniforms?”

  Her touch felt so good and he closed his eyes. “Like I said, I’m hardly your type.”

  “Oh?” H
er hand stilled. “And what’s my type?” Her voice was low, silky, and just a little dangerous.

  Adam swallowed to wet his dry throat. “Anyone you want. You’re young, confident, attractive.”

  She stepped in front of him and against his better judgment, his gaze moved to her cleavage. She’d left a few buttons of her blue shirt undone and he got a nice hint of what lay beneath. The scent of her reached him—warm woman, something lush and feminine.

  It had been so long since he’d touched a woman. So long since he’d been touched.

  And he knew it was a slippery, addictive slope.

  One stolen touch would never be enough. He released a long breath and tried to piece his vaunted control back together.

  She reached out and touched his bare chest again. “This is not old or unattractive.” Her fingers drifted downward. “Quite the opposite.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “I’m not playing games with you, Liberty.”

  “I’m not playing.” There was a deep well of patience in her gaze…but also something else that made his stomach clench.

  Heat. Desire. For him.

  His control snapped.

  He grabbed her hips and tugged her closer, pulling her to stand between his legs.

  Her red lips parted and Adam’s cock went painfully hard. It was all too easy to imagine what he could do with those pretty lips.

  “I don’t have relationships.” His voice was a growl.

  “I never asked you for one.” Her hands rested on his shoulders, kneading again. “But we all need someone. Even just for a little while. Especially now.”

  Her scent was swamping him, leaving him feeling like a stallion scenting a mare in heat.

  Her nails gently scored the skin of his neck. “It’s hard being alone,” she murmured. “Trapped, with no one to reach out to.”

  Adam blinked, could hear experience in her voice, drenched in something painful. He couldn’t imagine a woman like Liberty ever being alone.

  “I don’t have friends.” As her hands drifted over his skin, every last ounce of his blood went south. “I…can’t have friends.”

  “Bullshit.” She leaned down and nipped his ear. “You have friends, even if you won’t acknowledge them.”