Ashfall

by Denise A. Agnew

  The tension in her eyes and mouth released a little. “Thank you.” She rubbed her face. “Can we get out of here?”

  “Sure. Let’s head back to the compound. It’s too late to start on your security system today, anyway.” He wasn’t happy with her answer, but in the open in front of the crime scene wasn’t a good place to talk. “Let’s go.”

  Once back at the compound, they entered the building and Adam and Mark headed straight to the locker room where they could ditch their equipment. As the General emerged from his office, his face was undeniably grim. The older man stared at Adam and Mark.

  “What’s wrong, sir?” Adam asked.

  “There isn’t a sign of my daughter or MacDaniel.” The General’s eyes were bleak. “I’ve tried calling Penny, but I keep getting a dead line. Nothing is going through. What the hell has happened to them?”

  Adam’s heart dropped into his stomach. “The only way Ian would be out of contact this long would be if some serious shit has gone down.”

  “You want us to go looking for him, sir?” Mark asked.

  The General’s gaze turned harder and full of a bleakness Adam had never seen on the old warrior’s face. “No. I’ll use all my contacts to see if I can find out what’s happened. All of you are committed to working in this town right now, and I can’t break the contract we have with the government.”

  Adam wanted to say fuck that. But he knew Ian would tell him not to come looking for him. “I have confidence in Ian, sir. He’s one of the best military individuals I’ve ever met.”

  The General turned his gaze on Mally, a skeptical twist to his mouth. “How was your first day working for us, Miss Andretti?”

  She shifted her shoulders and stood straighter. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

  The General barked a laugh, and Adam blinked in surprise. Jesus, the old man seemed to really like Mally. Adam was two parts surprised and two parts not. Regardless of the old soldier’s faults, he’d always impressed Adam as a fair man.

  “Hard knocks, eh?” The General asked.

  “Yep,” Mally said. “But it turned out all right.”

  The General gestured toward the War Room. “I need a sit rep from you all. Blow by blow.”

  “Roger that,” Mark said.

  Adam turned to her. “That means situation report.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know. And who really says Roger that? How did the ‘that’ get into the whole equation? It used to be just Roger back in the day. Why can’t you guys just say what you mean?”

  “Why, that would be too easy,” The General said.

  Adam smiled and followed her toward the war room.

  Chapter 9

  Mally ached with an exhaustion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Water cascaded over her in a sweet warm shower. Feeling the water cleanse her of the day’s excesses was nirvana. Today had been a bitch. She’d learned a lot and had even more respect for the work Sentry Security performed. Not only were they bodyguards for specific clients, but now that the government used them to keep the peace, everything was on the line. In the back of her mind she’d understood how dangerous their work could be, but witnessing it firsthand made it all the more real.

  She’d gathered from what very little she knew about these companies, that they’d made a lot of money during the last war. They were still making a sizable amount, although with the economy in the toilet, they didn’t make nearly the change they had during wartime.

  Might as well be a war.

  She moaned as she washed dirt and sweat from her hair. Today had taught her two things. She could do this job…sort of. Adam had been right. She wasn’t trained for it, but she’d performed well for a civilian. She shivered when she remembered how that ass at the restaurant had grabbed her around the neck. If her father hadn’t trained her in basic defense skills and the man attacking her had been trained like Adam, she might be dead right now. Reality sent a cold shiver straight down her spine.

  Her shoulders were tight as hell and every muscle in her body felt as if she’d worked them long and hard. She rinsed her hair, then left the shower. She didn’t hog the water. If there was one thing she’d learned since Long Valley erupted, it was that you didn’t waste anything, including clean water. But while there still was some, she wasn’t going to sacrifice a shower.

  It was only seven o’clock. She considered slipping into her red flannel pajamas and hitting the sack, but something told her to prepare for anything. She didn’t know what. So she dressed in an old navy blue sweat suit and slumped into a chair with her Glock on the table next to her.

  Paranoid much?

  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Adam or Mark, or even the General. She did. No matter what disagreements or personality conflicts she had with Adam, she knew without a doubt he wouldn’t hurt her. No, it was the world outside she couldn’t trust. Part of her ached to return to the compound, yet the thought of venturing into that world again sent a spike of fear right up her spine. She rubbed her arms. She’d left her compound reluctantly, but now she’d found this place…well, the benefits were obvious. She had protection here in double layers. At the compound she’d had only herself to rely upon. Along with the protection, though, came complications. Namely one very sexy complication named Adam. She also understood that dealing with more people these days was taxing her brain—she’d spent so much time alone in the compound she felt out of practice. Yet part of this interaction with others felt refreshing, new and valuable.

  A knock on the door made her jump. She grabbed her Glock and headed to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Adam.”

  She unlocked the door and opened it wide. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” His gaze went to her weapon. “Can I come in?”

  She hesitated, aware of her still-wet hair and her ragged sweat suit. At the same time she didn’t care. Why should I care? It isn’t as if I’m trying to impress him. She winced internally. Maybe she did care if she impressed him, and she hated that. He also looked as if he’d just showered. He wore jeans and a blue t-shirt, and his hair was damp. The t-shirt fit him snugly, as if it had gone through the wash and dry too many times.

  She shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

  She allowed him inside and locked the door. He smiled as he watched her, and every prickly thorn inside her stood on end.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked as she placed the Glock back on the table by the chair.

  “You trying to keep others out or me in?”

  She headed to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “Habit.” She held up the bottle of water. “Want one?”

  “Thanks.” He took the water she offered and then collapsed in the chair near hers.

  She flopped down in her chair. Sitting next to him somehow disturbed her in an elemental way she didn’t quite understand and didn’t want to analyze. Her brain felt too on edge, too prickly.

  Silence wrapped around them for a short time before she couldn’t take the quiet anymore. “What’s going on?”

  He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry I doubted you today.”

  Mally didn’t know how to react——she hadn’t expected an apology. She found her mouth curling upward in a reluctant smile. “Thank you. But you were at least partly right in your assessment of my skills. There’s a lot I need to learn.”

  “I’ll ask the General if I can train you.” He spread his hands out. “That is, if you want to keep doing it.”

  “I want to do it to stay alive. If there’s one thing I learned from my father, it’s self-reliance.”

  “I can see that. You’re even more independent than I thought you would be.”

  “You underestimated me.”

  “I did.”

  Another pause entered the room before she spoke again. She didn’t want to belabor her life, but she must know a few things. “What would you do without Sentry Security?”

  “I don’t even think about it
.”

  “Not once?”

  He gave her a lopsided chuckle. “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  Puzzlement entered his eyes, but not for why she’d asked him the question. “I don’t know. After I got my grandparents shipped off to England…” He tapped the center of his chest. “I’m working to stay alive, to keep our country alive. I want to make things safe for my grandparents to come back.”

  The cynical part of her reared its ugly head. “What if it never is? Safe, I mean.”

  “So be it. But I have to keep up hope.”

  She had a sinking feeling all of a sudden. Not the feeling that came from sadness, but from recognizing something she’d tried in vain to ignore since she’d first heard his voice on the ham radio. The man was too sexy. To delicious for words. More than that, she admired him. Damn the man, she was so attracted to him she couldn’t see straight.

  Once more the quiet overtook them until it pulsed and hummed with a live energy. “You’re used to living very basically aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “I’m not. But I’ll learn.” She glanced at the floor. “Tomorrow I need to check on my property and get the security system fixed so the rest of the place isn’t trashed more than it already is.”

  “Of course.”

  “That was easy.”

  “As long as I’m with you, I’m cool with it.”

  She couldn’t help but play with him. She crossed her ankles. “What if I told you to screw it, I’ll go myself?”

  He laughed, but it was totally fake. “Jesus, Mally. Why would you do that? You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  Adam’s tone held exasperation. She couldn’t help her soft laugh. “Yes. I wouldn’t go back there without one of you bad-ass soldiers.”

  “You won’t go with anyone but me.”

  His demand thrilled her way deep in her stomach. A tingle. A slow burn. “You’re bossy as hell.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry. I just…” He opened his eyes. “I’m worried about you. Sue me.”

  Mally didn’t know what to say to that. She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around the idea this man wanted her. That he might even care for her more deeply than any other man had.

  When she didn’t argue, he asked, “So is this your second job now?”

  Mally sank back on her elbows. “I don’t know any more. I don’t want to give up my writing, but…” She shrugged. “Market has dried up.”

  “I know. Like you said before, people are surviving, not reading books. But don’t stop writing.”

  “Why?”

  “You already know the answer. For yourself. Keep that flame alive inside you. That’s what hope is.” His voice was deep and soft. “For anyone who’ll read it. As time goes on, more people will want to read again.”

  “I’m in a wait-and-see mode. I don’t know what inspiration looks like right now.”

  “You’ve become cynical.”

  “I don’t know how to feel again…to feel the right way to write romance.”

  One corner of his mouth turned upward, a tiny quirk that said he’d considered laughing. “I could help you with that.”

  “Oh really?” She grinned. “Are you a romantic guy?”

  He shrugged. “I think so. Romance is different for everyone. But I like to buy a woman flowers.”

  “Hmm.” That cynicism turned on full force. “It takes more than flowers.”

  “Of course it does. It takes sharing things with the other person. Living with them day to day and not taking them for granted. It isn’t all hearts and flowers.”

  Mally felt a shift. A sweet understanding rolled up inside her. A little of the ice she’d refrozen around her heart melted. “That’s true. It isn’t.”

  He kept his gaze pinned to hers, and for some reason she couldn’t look away. He said, “You always wait for inspiration to write?”

  His change of direction surprised Mally. Lying occurred to her, but instead she said, “No.” She scratched the back of her neck. “I haven’t always waited for it.”

  “Don’t ever wait,” he said with genuine warmth. “Do you have anything to write with?”

  “My laptop.”

  “Then write tonight. Write anything.”

  She smiled. “For a man who isn’t a writer you sure have a lot of knowledge about it.”

  He cleared his throat. “I know about the artistic mind. I had a girlfriend once when I was sixteen…she was a very talented painter. She let her parents convince her it wasn’t practical to be a painter. They said she should give it all up.”

  Sympathetic pain spiked inside her. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.” Something that looked like sorrow filled his eyes. “She uh…she lost her bearings. Her meaning. She couldn’t find her way again. She committed suicide a few months after she gave up her dreams. Downed a bottle of her mother’s sleeping pills.”

  “Oh no.” She pressed her lips together tightly. Appropriate words didn’t come. What could she say? “That’s awful.” She considered her next words carefully. “That won’t happen to me.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know. You’re a lot more mature. You’re not as fragile.”

  “I’ve only known you a short time. You don’t know that much about me.”

  “Maybe. But I’d like to learn more about you.” His voice was husky.

  Heat kindled higher inside her core. She’d always been turned on by intellectual men, and this guy seemed to have that in spades, along with the whole sex-on-a-stick aspect she’d never encountered this up-close and personal.

  “Mally, don’t let this…” He gestured. “Don’t let what’s happened take everything away from you.”

  “Everything?”

  “This situation. Long Valley.”

  She tossed a smirk at him. “When did you get so damned well adjusted?”

  “I’ve got my faults.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m flattered they aren’t readily apparent to you.” When she smiled but said nothing, he said, “I’m stubborn as hell. Got that one from my father and my mother. I’m a stickler for being on time.”

  “Even though you were late calling me on the radio?”

  “Yep. I hate being late, and I’ll admit that I get impatient when other people are.”

  She could admire the being on time part of the equation. “What else?”

  “I’m a little too obsessive compulsive when I load the dishwasher. I’ve got to unload it and reload it because almost no one does it right.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Really? I don’t care about stuff like that. What else are you obsessive compulsive about?”

  “Not much else. At least not pathologically.”

  “So where did you get this obsessive compulsive thing when it comes to loading a dishwasher?”

  He shrugged. “My mother was worse. She ironed sheets and the bed corners had to be squared off and shit. The list is endless. The military sort of compounded that impatience with things not being in order.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “The last few years I’ve worked some of it out. Hell, what am I saying? I’ve worked a good chunk of it out. You can’t be in pararescue and not have flexibility.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense.”

  He frowned. “I’m still not happy with you going out with us when it comes down to it.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “What?”

  “I mean the idea that you’re out there with us in danger.”

  “I’m going out again tomorrow.”

  “I know. Doesn’t mean I like it. But you were fantastic today.”

  “Flattery, sir, won’t necessarily get you everywhere.”

  He laughed, and the sound vibrated deep. “My grandmother always said to live by the Golden Rule.”

  “Do unto others as you’d like them to do unto you?”

  “That, too.”

  Another chuckle left her. “Okay, the
re’s another golden rule?”

  “Yeah. When you can’t think of a damned thing to do, just dance until the idea comes to you.”

  His eyes softened, a look in them she couldn’t define, but that set her on fire. She wanted to eat him up but without all the consequences that would come with such a drastic step.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she took advantage of the sound to stand and go to the window. Drizzle ran down the glass. She heard a shuffle behind her and Adam turned on an MP3 device he’d docked into speakers on the desk. Soft classical music came out.

  She rubbed her neck as he turned around. “You okay?”

  “I’m stiff. Sore.”

  “You need to let off some steam.”

  He fiddled with the MP3 player until she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Gotta find something just right.”

  “For what?”

  “Dancing.”

  Discomfort spiked inside her. “I don’t dance.”

  “Who says?” He threw a smile over his shoulder.

  She heaved a sigh. “I don’t dance because I suck at it.” He fiddled with the MP3 player and found a song she didn’t know. “Some kind of hip hop?”

  “Yeah. One of the few I like. It’s called Pony by Guinuwine.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  He threw a grin back at her. “Song came out over twenty years ago. Are you offended by explicit songs?”

  “No.” She couldn’t resist. “Bring it on.”

  She took inventory of his ripped frame. His broad back made an inverted triangle down to a trim waist and those jeans molded perfectly against an incredible butt. She liked that his jeans fit right—they weren’t gangsta sloppy nor too tight. Just. Right. A hot tingle coiled in her belly.

  He started to move, and from that point she couldn’t stop staring. Smooth and intricate, he made each dance step in sync with the throbbing beat. She’d always envied people who possessed a sense of rhythm and timing, who could dance with a confidence she’d never known.

  She felt the music, the thump and grind in her heart. In her skin and bones. He pumped his hips. One. Two. Three times. Heat vaulted into her center. The lyrics, with their subtle but impossible to misunderstand sexual connotation added to the excitement racing into every happy place in her body. Oh, my God. Mally thought she’d explode. She didn’t want to want him, but she did. Reality screamed loud and clear. Whether she admitted to it out loud or not, this man was hot. She bit her lower lip as he executed an acrobatic move she couldn’t have described if her life depended on it. He stopped dancing suddenly and grinned as he headed for the fridge and found another water.