by Pam Godwin
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Maybe Michio hadn’t been able to track the Drone. Maybe he’d died trying.
My lungs hitched, stuttering my breath as I teased my eyes open. “We’ll find him.”
My belief in those words catapulted me through the next few days. I ate, slept, and regained my strength. Hiding out in an evacuated, high-end, gated neighborhood had its advantages. We acquired new clothing and shoes, found more generators secreted away in garages, and beneath the hum of a florescent light, mapped out our journey to Missouri.
Home. The house I’d shared with Joel and Annie and Aaron. A place of joyful memories and irreconcilable sadness. I never expected to return. Never wanted to.
Stay alive. Seek truth. And do not look back.
That was our agreement the day Joel and I fled our home. I’d held up my end, and would continue to do so with every ounce of fight left in me. My guardians were my future, and if the key to locating Michio waited in that house, I would find it, without looking back.
Four days after I’d woken in Charlottesville, Link arrived with three more men.
Roark met him at the door. “You’re coming with us?”
“Yup.” Link pushed his way inside, his frame thinner, and his bald head creased with more lines than the last time I saw him.
“This is Gary and Lee.” He gestured at the attractive white guys behind him. Evidently, muscles were a requirement to work for Link. “You already know Hunter.”
As Link and Roark spoke quietly, Hunter shuffled past, offering me a chin nod, his arms loaded with boxes. Wedged in the top of one was a bulky white laptop-like machine.
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Is that—?”
“You found one!” Shea ran in from the kitchen and snatched the machine from the box. “Does it work?”
Hunter shrugged. “I found a few of them between here and the peninsula. You know that nurse you cured in Arkendale? She checked them out. Said they would do.”
“An ultrasound machine,” I said with disbelief, but my thoughts were already skipping to the generator and the knowledge that we wouldn’t be leaving until the morning and…
I found Jesse’s eyes across the room, searing into mine. He sat on the floor against the far wall, knees bent, and his thumb sliding over the string of the bow between his legs. Anyone else might’ve thought he was disinterested in the conversations around him, too bored to interact with or pay attention to his current company. But I knew better. He was listening, always watching, and right now, he was thinking about all the possibilities that machine might give us.
Shea ran up the stairs with it, hell-bent on her mission, her finger crooking at me to follow.
I turned back to Hunter. “Thank you.”
Juggling the boxes, he twitched his head back, trying to jerk his long hair out of his face. “It was on Link’s grocery list. He wanted the women of Arkendale to have some.” He gave up on the hair, letting it fall over one eye. “Shea had mentioned you wanting one.”
Made sense. Prenatal care would be crucial soon. That was, if the virus no longer infected the air and future babies survived.
Link strode toward him and clasped his shoulder. “Put those boxes in the kitchen.” He passed his dark gaze to me. “Welcome back to the land of the living. I hear we’re heading to Missouri.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who’s running Arkendale?”
“At last count, seventy-eight men and two-hundred-forty-three women.”
Fucking unreal. Arkendale could very well become the capital of the future world. As it stood, it was the only place on the planet where women outnumbered men.
He swiped a hand over his mouth, failing to muffle his amusement. “It’s a goddamned democracy.”
Really? Because it sounded like he left them high and dry.
My teeth slammed together. “A democracy has people in power. Elected officials.”
“I left my best men and women in charge, sweetheart. If they kill each other, that’s on them.” He laughed at my wide eyes and strode toward the kitchen.
I held my arms at my sides and tried not to be morally affronted by his jackassery. I really tried, but fuck, I wanted to thrust both middle fingers in the air. “Why are you here?”
He stopped in the doorway, his big hand curling around the framework as he faced me. “I like to fuck as much as the next guy, but I love to fight. Doesn’t exactly make me a candidate for Mayor of Utopia-dale, does it? Where you’re headed, Little Ladybird, awaits a battle for the history books, and I just accepted the position as General of your army. You’re welcome.”
Roark watched him from the other side of the room, hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. And Jesse, well, he was silent and glarey as usual.
Maybe for Link, it really was as simple as fighting the good fight and becoming a legendary hero, dead or alive.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck if future generations knew my name. Whether or not I became the champion of my own life depended on the long and happy lives of three men. Period.
“Evie!” Shea shouted from upstairs. “Get your ass up here.”
I jerked away from the steaming electric iron in Shea’s hand. “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
She gripped a hunk of my hair and used it to pull my head where she wanted it. “Sit still, or I’m going to burn you.”
A ragged exhale pushed past my lips. Out of my comfort zone much? That didn’t begin to describe the unease crawling over my skin. I came upstairs, expecting an ultrasound, but Shea refused to turn on the machine until she’d cleaned me up. Yeah, the shower had made me feel like a new person, but this was something else entirely.
No wonder we were in the hall bathroom and not the master en-suite, because she’d taken over it, transforming the small room into a kingdom of girlishness. Sparkly makeup, tweezers, razors, and lotions covered the counter. Dresses, tops, and lingerie hung from every nail and hook in a tapestry of sequins and lace. And the Duchess of Glitter World stood amid a pile of shoes of every color, wrapping my hair around a curling iron and staring at my chewed-up fingernails like they were a direct insult to her vagina.
I tucked my hands at my back, the movement threatening to loosen the towel knotted around me. “All this effort to make me look like a woman and—”
“You are a woman.” She set down the iron and fluffed out my curls. “Hottest damned woman alive.”
I smiled my thanks, though I disagreed. “Pretty sure I’m staring at that woman.”
She was always gorgeous, but right now…heaven help the men in this house. Her complexion was buffed and powdered into a silky sheen of chocolate. Smoky shadows enlarged her brown eyes, deep red gloss painted her pillowy lips, and her eyelashes went on for days. Evidently, she’d spent a lot of time rifling through the wealth of Charlottesville.
She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth, her hand wielding a makeup brush like a weapon. “Quit flirting with me, and close your eyes.”
I glared at her. “I haven’t felt the IUD string in weeks. If there’s something wrong with it, all of this is just icing on a cake that won’t get eaten.”
She glared right back. “Oh, they’re going to eat you, because you’re going to strut your fine ass out there and gobsmack them into next week. They won’t even care what shows up on that ultrasound.”
I pulled at the blond curls falling around my arm, stretching one out and watching it spring back. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
It had been two weeks since I had sex with Roark. He was infertile, so pregnancy wasn’t a worry. Yet. How long could I restrain my sexual relationship with Jesse?
“Have a little faith, honey.” She knocked my hand away. “Give them this one night of burning, yearning, instant-boner seduction. Tomorrow, you can return to your ponytails, shit-kickers, and leather holsters.”
Seduction I could do. Worst case, the IUD was MIA and we’d repeat our night in the bathroom, which had been nothing short of mind-blow
ing. And other blowing.
I sighed at the invasion of tingles in my core, fantasizing about my guardians as Shea did her thing. As much as I wanted to graciously bow out of this little makeup party, it seemed to make her ecstatically happy. So I let her brush shit over my lids and cheeks and smear my lips and lashes in more shit. Then she moved to the clothes.
A fist knocked on the door, accompanied by the scratch of claws.
Shea peeked her head out. “Hey, handsome.” She lifted her knee against the cracked opening, blocking the shove of a shaggy head. “No, Darwin. No dog hair allowed.”
“Hey.” Paul’s deep voice filtered through the door. “How much longer? Jesse’s pacing around that machine, glaring at it like he’s waiting for it to grow eight-legs or something.”
Poor Jesse. Tonight would either be a night of colossal disappointment or one huge final step in intimacy.
“Ten minutes.” Shea closed the door and slumped against it, wearing a floaty-heart smile, one that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the man in the hall.
“Have you slept with him?”
“Maybe.” She ducked her head, gathering the clothes from the edge of the tub.
“And Eddie?”
She smiled at me over her shoulder then sighed, her lips pinching. “They’re not Jackson, you know?” She shook her head, her dark curls falling across her face.
I lifted her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “It gets easier.”
“Yeah? I mean, the sex is good, really good, and who knows? Maybe it’ll turn into something like you have someday?”
“I hope so.” I leaned in to kiss her forehead.
“Lipstick!” She dodged my mouth and shoved the bundle of clothes against my chest. “Get dressed.”
Ten minutes later, I flattened my palms on my thighs, smoothing out the fabric of the short, flirty black skirt. A shimmery blue strapless top clung to my boobs and the dips in my waist. I got away with going bra-less, but Shea won the fight about the white lace thong, claiming the tags were still attached because it was destined for my ass. She was right about that, considering I couldn’t stop the strip of lace from crawling its way into my crack.
On my way out of the bathroom, I glanced at the mirror. Staring back was a woman from another time and a different place. She was the career woman who dressed for the office every day. The wife who dined at fancy restaurants with her husband. The mother who attended talent shows to watch her daughter dance and karate tournaments to see her son show off his kicks.
I missed that woman deeply, longingly. My chest ached at the knowledge that I was looking at an artificial layer and deep down that person was well and truly gone.
Behind the light makeup and clean hair was someone else entirely, a woman with eyes that had seen a thousand deaths, with ears that had heard the screams of unfathomable horror, and a heart that had slogged through bloodshed and found a way to love again.
In that moment, staring at my reflection beneath the warmth of a single light bulb, I realized I was proud of the woman I’d become. Maybe I’d lost the graceful ability to sashay in a pair of four-inch heels, but I could use the spikes to defend a life. Maybe I no longer dominated a boardroom, but I could hold my own on a battlefield. Maybe I’d forgotten how to comfort a child, but I had spread a cure that gave women a chance to love generations of children.
“You’re beautiful.” Shea stood behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I'll handle the ultrasound, and you just stand there and watch the zippers bust open, m’kay?”
I burst out laughing and followed her through the door and into the hallway.
My heart hammered, my palms slicked, and the high-heels pinched the circulation in my toes. But I held my head up as I stepped into the bedroom I’d been sharing with Jesse and Roark.
In the bright glow of the overhead light, Jesse saw me instantly, his eyes wide and frozen, like his stance. He blinked, blinked again, and his gaze lowered, lower still, then traveled back up, over my skirt, lingering on my chest, and locking on my face.
He licked his bottom lip, and I wasn’t sure he was aware he did it. Then he went back for another scan, devouring my legs, my hips, back to my breasts, clinging there, heating me up with the intensity of his expression.
“Well?” I stalked toward him, checking the room for Roark and finding it empty.
Shea’s footsteps moved toward the bed where the ultrasound waited.
Jesse dragged his eyes from my chest and stepped forward, meeting me halfway. His hand lifted toward my face and hovered as if he was unsure whether or not he’d smudge the makeup.
I caught his wrist and pressed his palm against my cheek. “Is it too much?”
“No,” he said, breathless, his eyes roaming again, up, down, up. “Beauty has always defined you. I’ve just never seen you so…”
“Feminine?”
He swallowed. “Exquisite.”
My damned cheeks flushed, the warmth spreading down my neck and kick-starting my pulse. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He glanced down at his black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing the strength in his forearms. He still had his stubble, and the hair on his head pointed in all directions, untamed and stubborn. Combine that with the deceptively quiet way he observed me, and I was sucked in, captivated, and insanely turned on.
Roark strode out of the attached bathroom, glanced up, and slammed to a stop. The look on his face was priceless. He gripped the back of his neck and gave me the same thorough perusal Jesse had, with his jaw hanging open. When he lowered his arm and closed his mouth, his smile was huge and mischievous.
I braced for it, could practically hear his brain searching for something ridiculous to say, and grinned in anticipation.
“Den’ panic, love, but one of me balls has gone right up inside me.” He wriggled a leg, looking down at his zipper then at my skirt. “Are ye wearing knickers under there? Feck it. I just need a screed of enthusiastic hand action. I'm in quite a lot of pain.”
Jesse lowered his head, chuckling.
Roark strode toward us, pointing at him. “Wha’ are ye laughing at? You’re looking a’ her like a cat eying a cream-flavored arsehole.”
I smacked his chest. “You did not just call me an asshole.”
He wrapped his big hands around my neck and pressed his forehead against mine. “Cream-flavored, love. A delectable, tight, creamy arsehole.” His exhale brushed over my lips. “And I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Okay,” Shea said from behind us. “It’s ready.”
I gave him a squeeze on his wrists and a nervous smile and pulled away to join Shea on the bed.
With my top tucked beneath my breasts and the waistband of the skirt rolled down, I lay on my back as she squeezed a dollop of cold gel on my lower belly and rubbed the wand through it.
All eyes moved to the machine beside my feet as the screen came to life.
Jesse sat beside my hip and leaned toward the black and white viewer. “What are we looking at?”
Shea pointed at a small white blob on the image. “That’s an acoustic shadow, a void behind something with substance. We see this often with solid structures like bone or kidney stones. Or in this case, the shaft of the IUD.”
My lungs heaved with an influx of air.
Jesse glanced at me and returned to the screen. “When I talked to the nurse in Arkendale, she said IUDs can move around, get dislodged, and become ineffective. Which could be harmful to Evie.”
Jesse’s attention to my wellbeing wasn’t a surprise, but seeing the concern on his face tightened my throat.
“True.” She jiggled the wand. “But see that? The string is tucked just inside her cervix. It’s there. Everything’s positioned correctly, even if you can’t feel it vaginally.”
He placed a hand on my knee, fingers trembling, his eyes a harsh and fiery landscape. A muscle bounced in his jaw as he slid his
palm beneath the skirt, up my inner thigh, and stroked the edge of my panties.
A quiver shimmied down my legs and a rush of heat gathered between them. “Jesse, what are you doing?”
“I just want to see…” He stared at the screen, fingering the crotch of the thong as he inched it to the side.
“You can use the gel.” Shea held out the bottle.
“She doesn’t need it.” He flashed me a wicked smile, his finger swirling around my wet opening.
Holy fuck. He intended to finger me right here in front of Shea and— Oh God, he just did. The invasion ignited a ripple of pleasure through my body. I couldn’t stop my gasping breaths or the shameless rock of my hips.
His breathing staggered and his arm flexed as he bent over me, his finger reaching deeper, searching for…what? My cervix?
Roark sat beside Shea on my other side, his eyes staring intensely at the screen. “Stop squirming, Evie.”
He gripped my waist, holding me still.
Like Jesse, he had an invested interest in the validation of my IUD. As much as he’d seemed to enjoy wrestling Jesse into submission in the bathroom, I doubted he wanted to beat Jesse’s ass on a continual basis to keep me from becoming pregnant.
Pressure built inside me as Jesse’s finger pushed and curled. He stretched deeper, and a shadow bounced at the edge of the screen. He watched the image for a moment, making it jump with the thrust of his hand.
He slid his hand away and straightened my skirt. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” I arched a brow and closed my knees.
He sat back. “I wanted to see the screen interact.”
“What? You thought it was a recorded image or something?”
He crossed his arms and chewed on the edge of his thumb—same hand he fingered me with—as he studied my face. “You’ve had the IUD four years?”
Was he still doubting its effectiveness? I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah, it’ll last—”
“They were only approved for five years, but they’re actually effective for seven years or longer.” His mouth crooked up behind his thumb. “I picked the nurse’s brain in Arkendale.”
