by Toby Neal
“I just want to . . . make you feel good,” he said. Yeah, no panties were as good a look as he’d dared to imagine. Her hands fluttered around his head as he gently opened her, so he captured them in one hand. “Trust me,” he whispered. “This is all for you.”
He nibbled and kissed his way up her inner thigh to her core—so hot, melting for him, and so sweet. She tasted like salted caramel. Sweet was his new favorite flavor.
“Oh!”
“You okay?” His mouth brushed her, teasing her, as he spoke.
“Yes, I think so—this is just so . . .”
He looked up her body, its creamy hills and valleys a delight to explore, and found her gaze, wide and locked onto him. Her eyes shimmered. He hoped she wasn’t getting ready to cry. “I’d never hurt you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He kissed her leg again, beginning his slow ascent from her knees up to her hips again, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head back, arching up and encouraging him. He used teeth, tongue, lips and fingers slowly, tenderly, enjoying every second between her thighs. It was the perfect antidote to the murderous day they’d endured, and it was over too soon when she came, her soft cries music in the night.
He was heavy and hurting with unspent passion, but totally satisfied too as he came up to lie alongside her, and tucked her head on his shoulder. “Did you like that?”
She nodded, her silvery hair tickling his nose. “I get it now.”
“What?”
“Why people like sex. I never got it before. It seemed so . . . messy. Lots of bacteria exchanged. And fluids.”
He laughed until her hand closed around his equipment, her grip strong but light—like her. Her touch made his whole body go instantly rigid.
“I want to get to know you, too.” She rolled him onto his back, rising up to her knees before him. “I want you to feel good, too.”
She took hold of his boxers and began to pull them down as JT watched, frozen with hunger, unable to move. She slid them off, doing a sexy little wiggle, and palmed his heat. JT jerked at her touch, tightening his abs to sit up. She paused, looking up at him as he put a hand over hers. “Wait.” His voice was strained.
Her eyes were so big and innocent that it sent a surge of want through him—God, he needed her.
“You don’t have to.” JT had to be clear. She’d already given him a very special gift, her trust. She owed him nothing. “This was plenty for one night.”
She smiled, sly and sexy. “Oh, but I want to.”
He hissed as she started to move her hand under his. He released her, but kept his eyes riveted to Elizabeth as she bent over him, giving him her full, laser-like attention. She was downright scientific as she explored the sensations she could tease out of him, the breathless groans, the helpless twitches. The girl might be a virgin, but she was enthusiastic, using her mouth, hands, and tongue in a way that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.
He came quickly, and so hard that he was a rocket soaring, burning everything in its path as he arched off the blanket with an inarticulate cry—and she took all he had to give.
The return to earth was gentle, and Elizabeth was still there, her moonbeam hair sliding over his abs as she smiled up at him, as if there was no place she’d rather be than here. With him. On a blanket in the middle of a nameless cornfield, on a mission to save the world.
They bedded down in the back of the Rover, Pinocchio in the front seat. JT still wanted to touch Elizabeth, so he drew her into his arms in spite of the sleeping bags separating them.
“You’ve never told me about your family,” she said.
“I could go on about them for hours. You’ll meet some of them in Philly.” He stroked her hair. “We’re a close family. Five brothers and a little sister. Luca is the oldest. He’s ex-Special Forces, serving in the National Guard right now as a trainer at a base in Texas. I’m the second down in age. Then comes Cash. His first name is Cosimo, but no one calls him anything but Cash. He’s the daredevil, and a firefighter at the moment, a job he finally seems to be settling into. The twins are next—Dolf and Nando.” JT swallowed. “Nando’s the heart of our family—always doing good. He’s the one that’s sick right now. He’s a legal aid lawyer, married to Avital, an ER doctor. Dolf’s his identical twin, and we call him the brain. Dolf started out as a stockbroker, made good and now just manages his own investments. Then, there’s Dante. He’s a computer genius and a super nerd. Helped me make the app that paid for the Haven.”
“Wow.” Elizabeth’s breath stirred the hair on his chest. “I’m an only child. It’s different. Lonelier, I guess.”
“And I haven’t even told you about Lucy yet. Lucy is the youngest Luciano.” He shook his head. “Sassy and smart. She can take us all on. She’s in law school right now.”
“Your parents must be amazing people to have a family like that.” He could hear envy and sadness in Elizabeth’s voice.
“My Pops is gone. He was a cop. Murdered years ago on an undercover assignment.” JT squeezed her through the bulky sleeping bags. “He left some big shoes to fill. Mama hasn’t even dated since he died. What about your family? You keep trying to reach your parents.”
“My father’s a senator. Very influential.” She stroked his chest hair, eliciting prickles of sensation, but they were suddenly uncomfortable.
“A senator? As in . . . United States senator?” JT moved away, getting some distance to prop himself on an elbow and look down at her in the dim light. The only thing he despised more than Big Oil was Big Government. Those two institutions were why the environment was going to hell. “No wonder you kept saying you had to get hold of your dad. That he’d send someone.”
“Yeah, I hope he and my mom are okay.” Her voice sounded sad and frightened. She reached for him, but JT pulled away further, to his side of the truck bed, casting his gaze to the window.
Betrayal twisted his guts—illogical, he knew—but why hadn’t she told him this sooner? Their worlds had nothing in common. They had nothing in common.
She must have known how he’d react.
It had been a lot easier for JT to hear that she’d killed a man when she was seventeen than that she was part of the Washington elite, a one percent princess.
He’d been wrong to let himself care, even a little bit, wrong to get involved with her physically. He’d put a stop to it before either of them got more attached.
He slid a hand into his pocket to touch the rings, and immediately felt stronger.
“Well, we should get some sleep. Got a long day again tomorrow.” JT rolled onto his side, facing away from Elizabeth.
She went still—rigid next to him. Long moments passed. Finally, he heard a rustle as she turned on her side, away from him.
Sleep took way too long to come.
Chapter Thirteen
JT
The smaller towns and the highway in remote areas had been deserted, but Cloverdale, where they planned to pick up coolant, was chaos. Highway 80 was jammed with cars heading out of the city. The relentless wail of sirens and rattle of gunfire in the distance sent a chill through JT.
They were heading in the wrong direction for anything good.
Their progress slowed to a crawl as the jam condensed closer to downtown.
They’d got a late start, oversleeping, and hardly spoken two words to each other, the intimacy of the night before evaporating like mist. JT told himself it was better that way. He was relieved he hadn’t had to say anything, that she seemed withdrawn too.
Good.
“Are you sure we need to get coolant here? I’m not liking what I’m seeing. I’d like to go around if we can, rather than into it.” JT frowned, glancing at the clogged arteries of roadway intersecting ahead.
“I’m sure.” Elizabeth tracked the chaos around the Rover as they inched into the city. “I looked up several hospital and medical supply stores where we can buy some liquid nitrogen.” She dug the atlas out and thumbed to the right pa
ge. “I think the nearest one is two blocks off the next exit.”
Laid out in sensible grids on an open area of plains with a lot of trees and parks within the city limits, Cloverdale had a spacious feel in spite of the chaos. Historic old buildings and a Western flair marked the downtown area.
The sudden impact of another car bouncing off their bumper threw all three of them forward into the dash just as JT exited. Elizabeth squeaked, Pinocchio flew forward between the seats into Elizabeth’s lap, and JT took his foot off the brake to allow the impact to propel the car forward with momentum so they wouldn’t get whiplash. He thanked God the lane ahead was open for several hundred feet—a crash, with airbags deploying, could disable the Rover and leave them stranded.
They were so vulnerable, and they still had so far to go.
Riding the momentum of the impact, they glided to a smooth stop at the bottom of the exit and JT turned to look back up onto the I-80 overpass.
“Holy crap,” he breathed. The mash-up they’d been lucky enough to escape was a disaster. I-80 stood at a complete standstill. People were getting out of their cars and yelling began to rise, a din of anger emanating from the clogged artery.
“We’ll have to get out of the city on back roads. See if you can navigate us to the supply place, and then out of town and back onto the freeway somewhere on the other side of Cloverdale.”
“I’ll try.” Pinocchio took the opportunity to snuggle between Elizabeth’s legs in the well of the passenger seat, putting his head on her thigh as she looked down at the open atlas.
“Second right,” she said. “Should be halfway down the block. Home Hospital Supply.”
JT navigated the Rover along a road congested with cars. The air was shrill with alarms going off from vehicles with smashed windows and broken headlights—it wasn’t just looting, there was anger in the destruction—an evil unleashed. JT shivered as the Sight tickled the back of his neck. This was very bad.
As they approached the Home Hospital Supply storefront, JT spotted a group of looters working the street, crowbars in hand.
“We’re not stopping—too dangerous. What’s your next best option?” They watched the looters break the window of the store next to the hospital supply place. The shrilling of an alarm added to the current cacophony. JT couldn’t get past the area fast enough.
“Where am I going?” He barked, driving with one hand, the other holding the Glock at the ready on his thigh.
“I bet they hit the hospital supply place next, after that store they’re in. Why don’t we find a place to park, double back, and go in behind them?” Elizabeth’s eyes were blue flames behind her glasses. “I’ll take the shotgun, you take your Glocks. They won’t mess with us.”
“But what about the Rover?”
“Hide it. Leave Pinocchio guarding it.”
JT snorted a laugh at that, even as the Catahoula gazed at Elizabeth with melting brown eyes as if he understood her confidence in him.
“Seriously. Anywhere we go for the coolant could be worse, or as bad. I want to get it over with and get out of here.” Elizabeth looked ready to throw down, her mouth a tight, tough line. Her rationale held merit—the evil you know, versus the evil not yet encountered but no doubt ahead. “Let’s get this done.”
JT looked for a place to park among the wrecked and broken vehicles, and finally turned into an alley, stashing the Rover behind an overflowing dumpster. Elizabeth tucked the cryocase into her pack and looked over at his dog.
“Your stink will keep robbers away,” she told Pinocchio, who licked her hand in adoration.
“Look fierce and bark hard,” he told Pinocchio, who whined mournfully at signs of their departure. Elizabeth had been loading the shotgun while he was making his preparations. Girl was a quick study and had a spine on her. A curl of possessive pride tightened JT’s belly as she filled her pockets with shells.
He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be so small and vulnerable. He felt his own bulk as he climbed out of the Rover—but that wouldn’t protect either of them from firearms.
JT checked that his magazines were full and shoved one Glock in his waistband and the other into the holster on his belt. He undid the clasp on the Buck knife’s holster on the other side, and cracked the windows for the dog.
Exiting the Rover was entering a war zone. The air smelled of garbage, excrement, and smoke. Beyond their hiding place, the street was filled with the screams of sirens and pulse of alarms. The alley was empty, but he could hear shouts and the popcorn blasts of gunfire not far off.
Moving quickly, he opened the back and removed an empty pack. Elizabeth joined him. She’d tied a bandanna from his clothes bag around her face, and she handed him one. “We should blend in with the other looters. A lot of them wore masks.”
JT tied the cloth over his face quickly and locked the truck, trying not to see Pinocchio’s woebegone fuzzy face through the back window.
“Let’s do this. Stay behind me, but keep close. We’re three blocks from the store, and we’re gonna jog it.” He broke into the ground-eating lope he and Roan used when they were hunting in the mountains behind their dogs, and he could feel Elizabeth almost touching him as she kept up, the shotgun cradled in her arms.
The main street was mayhem. People were running, cars were trying to make it down the road through the obstacles, and a roaming pack of dogs reminded JT of his dream.
JT scanned as he moved, but didn’t see any law enforcement—a good thing too, because in their current getups, armed, they’d be targets for arrest or shooting.
At the third block, they encountered the looters, a mob of twenty or so strong young men, masked and armed with hatchets, baseball bats, nine millimeters, and an air of hysterical glee. A couple of pickup trucks crawled along the road with the group, tracking their progress down the street and holding the booty they ran in and out of the stores with.
JT slowed to a fast walk as he navigated through the group, Elizabeth tight to his side. He projected physical confidence and a sense of purposeful movement. The Glock in his hand and his hard eyes above the makeshift mask communicated nobody get in my way, a front he’d perfected on the streets of Philadelphia.
JT speeded to a run once they were through, grateful that Elizabeth was keeping up—in fact, he could hear her fast, even breathing just behind him. The girl was amped up but hardly winded, even with the weight of the shotgun in her arms. No wonder she was so tight and toned—clearly she worked out a lot, and that was coming in handy.
They reached the broken window of the hospital supply place and JT knocked jagged shards of glass out of the frame with the grip of the Glock before stepping inside the store. He turned to offer Elizabeth a hand, but she was already inside with him, the shotgun loose and ready for business with her finger on the trigger.
The space was dim, unlit, and the looters had run through quickly, finding little to steal here in the outer room among the wheelchairs, walkers, crutches, and bandages lining the walls.
“Fill this backpack with medical supplies. I noticed we’re running out of gauze and antibacterial ointment, while I find the coolant.” JT holstered the Glock and slung the pack off his back. He spotted the mulish set of her mouth and frowned. “What?”
“When was the last time you filled a cryocase with coolant?”
“What?”
“Exactly.” She thrust his empty pack back to him and pulled hers around to the front. “I’ll get the ice. You get the Band-Aids.”
She strode past him before he could respond, and he watched that ass as she walked into the next room. Damn, he liked her, in spite of the revelations of last night. The memory of her taste was sweet—and sweet was his new favorite flavor.
Gunfire from outside brought his attention back to the present.
JT moved down the aisles with the pack, filling it with gauze, ointments, salves, Band-Aids, and other potentially useful items.
He surveyed the room and glanced behind a nearby counter, suckin
g a quick breath in horror at the sight of a fallen older man in a white lab coat. A spreading pool of blood beneath his gray hair was a mute reminder of how quickly life could be over.
JT surveyed the shelves above the counter. The looters had taken all of the harder medications that might have been there, and the cash register hung open and empty—but there were still some bottles of aspirin and cold medicine so he scooped those into his arms, folding a handful of cash and wedging it under the register. He’d planned to pay, and so he would.
“We gotta go, E. Now.” JT could hear police sirens coming. They couldn’t be caught in here, armed, with a body that had been shot. And he wanted Elizabeth out of there before she saw what he’d just seen.
“One second,” she called from the other room.
“Hurry. Cops are finally on their way.”
She appeared in the doorway and he took her hand this time as he led her through the ransacked store, and they jumped out onto the street.
The cops were coming, about a block away, marching down the middle of the street in an arrow formation. They wore gas masks, metal shields, and body armor, and they were throwing canisters of tear gas ahead of them.
JT’s heart pounded like a war drum at the whump the canisters made, exploding. “Move, E, move!”
They ran ahead of the billowing smoke like deer before a forest fire.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth clung to JT’s big, hot hand as he ran ahead of her, the backpack, chock-full of supplies, bouncing on his broad strong back. The thump of the tear gas going off behind her lent speed to Elizabeth’s feet, and she kept up with JT easily. His hand was a lifeline in the storm of calamity around them, the guilty and the innocent alike running before the blunt hammer of the law.
Finally, they reached the mouth of the alley, only to hear Pinocchio’s deep, hostile barking. A couple of men, crowbars in hand, were about to take a swing at the hatch of the Rover.
