by Kris Norris
“I’m sure you’d give the guy a thrashing. But why do either when we’re more than willing to help you out. Just give Hamilton the keys and we’ll see you safely out of here.”
“Right. You and what army? Oh, I forgot. You used to be in the ‘reserves’.” She made the quotes in the air with her bound hands. “What a crock of shit.”
Wolfe couldn’t help but smile. Damn this girl was something else.
Hamilton huffed. “We’re wasting time. You know damn well we’re far more than just army reserve. And if it weren’t for those snipers Beau had on the roof last night, we would have walked away then—you with us. But what’s done is done.” He released a slow breath. “Please, Morgan. I give you my word.”
“Trust is earned. And I’ve got no reason to trust any man.”
Wolfe cursed. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Pick up Bobby’s baton then get over here. If we so much as look at you funny you can shock the ever loving fuck out of us. But you’re not going to get far without some backup, sweetheart. Trust me. We cased this place for four days. Beau’s got more security than you think.” He maintained eye contact, all too aware that if he let her look away, they’d be stuck there as she walked out the door. “Hamilton’s telling you the truth. We won’t hurt you.”
Emotions crossed her features as she looked at the door then back at them. Uncertainty flared in her eyes before she shook her head, grabbing the stun baton before tripping her way over to their stall. She fell against the wood, a whimper of pain passing her lips before she pinched them shut. Her gaze rose to theirs and held, determination and pride surging forth.
“You so much as blink wrong and I’ll stick this up your ass.”
Hamilton’s lips twitched into a smile. “Deal. The keys.”
She raised her hands, dropping the keys in Hamilton’s. “Don’t…”
“Hey, Bobby, what’s taking you …”
Morgan spun, staring in shock as one of the other men sauntered into the barn, rifle slung over his shoulder, cowboy hat tilted on his head. The man stopped, seemingly frozen as he looked from Bobby’s limp form over to Morgan and back again.
Hamilton reached through the bars, shoving the key into the lock before swinging open the heavy door. “Morgan, move!”
Chapter Four
Morgan Cooper took two staggering steps before Hamilton bowled her over, taking them both to the ground as he rolled behind one of the posts, her body cradled within his arms. He kept her head cupped in one of his hands as the other held her waist, keeping her tight against him as he huddled over her, obviously willing to shield her from gunfire. Her mind told her to shove the idiot off, but she knew she didn’t have the strength. Even now it was taking all her concentration just to stay conscious when all her body wanted to do was fade.
She clenched her teeth, willing her limbs to move properly. Damn, she’d never been hit with a stun device quite like that one. Sure, she’d had to undergo a test as part of her ranger training, but never one that strong or with repeated hits. Hell, when she closed her eyes, she swore she could hear music playing in her fillings.
Morgan resisted the near hysterical laugh that bubbled in her chest, aware the urge was simply her body’s way of coping with the electrical overload. Or maybe it was just a byproduct of the current situation. How she was trapped beneath a man she’d known for all of five minutes while everything else went to shit around them.
She heard the clatter of footsteps accompanied by the telltale sound of fighting. A muffled gasp echoed in the room followed by a dull thud. Hushed voices muttered in the background before more footsteps pounded the wood floor, growing increasingly closer.
The guy—Hamilton—shifted slightly, muttering something she couldn’t make out before he eased back, finally giving her more than just his massive shoulder to look at. Though she had to admit, the man was built like one of those models in a fitness magazine. Another man stood beyond Hamilton’s shoulder—Wolfe if she remembered correctly—the man’s lips lifted into a small half smile.
He gazed down at her as humor crinkled the fine lines around his eyes. “You sure are something else, sweetheart. I’m just not sure what that something is, yet.”
“I didn’t ask you fight my battles for me.”
Wolfe shrugged. “Hamilton thought you were worth the risk. Can’t argue with that.”
He offered her his hand as Hamilton untangled his body from hers, giving her a long, slow sweep as he got to his feet.
She glanced at Wolfe’s fingers, finally allowing him to help her to her feet, regretting the decision the moment her weight hit her legs. Her thighs trembled before she fell forward as her muscles spasmed again.
Two sets of strong hands caught her, holding her steady until one of the men tugged her against his chest, her face connecting with a wall of solid man. She palmed his ribs, determined to push herself off, when his arms encircled her, holding her firmly, but gently.
Morgan inhaled, hoping the oxygen would clear her head, but got an influx of spicy, male essence instead. The tantalizing aroma infused her senses, and she closed her eyes as she savored the enticing scent she knew was Hamilton. God, when had a man ever smelled that good? Or held her as if he didn’t want to let go? But in a sensitive, loving way. Not the way the other men touched the women—as if they were nothing more than a possession. A toy to play with then discard.
The thought made her tense, but Hamilton just stroked a hand down her hair, seemingly oblivious to the fact they could be moments away from another encounter. She tugged against him, and he eased back just enough to make eye contact. Deep brown eyes gazed down at her, a hint of amber flecks near the center. Her protest died on her tongue. The man was gorgeous. Hell, all three were, but she hadn’t planned on feeling…
Fuck. Now wasn’t the time to feel anything. In fact, she doubted there ever would be.
Hamilton shook his head, flashing her a boyish grin as he unlocked the cuffs, gently rubbing the bruised skin on her wrists. “You are a stubborn soul. You just took one hundred and fifty thousand volts to the torso—repeatedly. I think a bit of adjusting is to be expected. Shit, I can’t believe you’re still coherent let alone standing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Right. How many fingers is Wolfe holding up?”
Wolfe’s hand rose above Hamilton’s shoulder, the image wavering in and out of focus. She blinked a few times, snorting when it just made the scenery flip-flop.
She glared at Hamilton. “Why does it matter?”
“Can’t tell, can you?”
“Four.”
Wolfe sighed. “Try two.”
She blinked again, but it only proved his point when everything in the room doubled. “So my vision’s a bit off—”
“A bit off? You’re seeing double. And your body’s shaking like there’s a bloody earthquake beneath you.” Hamilton released one hand and ran it back through his hair. “Just let us help you. If you want us to bugger off once your head is on straight again, we will. But for now, stop assuming we’re the enemy.”
She leveled her gaze at him. “Everyone’s the enemy. All people want is what they can take from you. Plain and simple.”
Pain flashed Hamilton’s eyes before his expression softened. “Not everyone’s out for power or greed. There are still decent people left in this world.”
She stared at him, glancing quickly at Wolfe and the other guy—Gunner—wondering if these three men were just figments of her imagination. She’d been on her own for over a year and had yet to encounter anyone who hadn’t wanted something she possessed. And material items weren’t usually the priority.
She forced down the unfavorable memories. “Guess I just haven’t run into any of them.”
“You have now.” He slowly eased away, apparently watching her to see if she’d fall again. “We’ll go together. Try to get to one of their trucks. It’s downhill enough to the gate we should be able to pop the thing in neutral and coast out of here. Start it up once we’re
clear.” He surveyed the room. “We don’t want to do anything that might endanger the other women.”
“Other women?” Her mouth gaped open before she had the sense to close it. “We can’t leave them here. Those men are raping them.”
Gunner moved in beside her, his mouth set in a grim line. “We’re aware of what those bastards are up to. But none of the ladies would take so much as a step when I opened their doors. Hell, the doors are still wide open.” He waved at the large slabs that hung ajar. “If you think you can convince them, be my guest. But we need to leave. Now.”
Morgan straightened her shoulders, stumbling a few steps as she made for the first stall. She heard Hamilton shadow her every move but chose to ignore it. He could play the white knight if it made him happy. She just hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed when the damsel in distress kneed him in the balls because he got too close.
She stopped at the door, staring at the woman cowering in the back. “Come on, Sarah. You’re free. These men will help you escape, but we have to hurry.”
Sarah shook her head, purposely turning until she stared at the back wall. Morgan sighed, moving quickly to the next cell, repeating the same plea. Another rejection sent her on, until she’d begged every woman left in the barn to join them.
Gunner shouldered up beside her again. “I’m sorry, Morgan. But we’ll never make it out of here with them fighting and screaming every step of the way. There’s just not enough of us. Not under these circumstances. And I don’t feel right forcing them to go, even though I know it’s the right thing to do.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “We’re running out of time.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Beau isn’t a patient man.”
She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, holding it tight as she stared at each of the doors. While she hated to admit it, Gunner was right. They couldn’t force the women to leave. It had to be their choice. And she’d be damned before she’d suggest they knock the girls out just to rescue them. That’d scare them worse than they already were.
“Shit! I hate this.” She punched Gunner in the arm, needing something to ground her and keep her from screaming. “You’re right. We need to go.”
“You sure?” He looked at the open doors. “I don’t want you to regret this later. We can probably carry at least one each—”
“And be another group of people who don’t consider their feelings? Their choice?” She shook her head. “I can’t do that to them, especially when we can’t even guarantee that we’ll make it out of here. And if Beau catches us…” She grunted. “Let’s just say it’s not going to be enjoyable.”
Hamilton nudged in beside her. “No fucking way that creep will ever touch you again. And that’s a promise.” He reached for her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “Stay close. And if you think you’re not going to be able to stay conscious, just say the word.”
“I’ll be just fine, soldier boy.”
Wolfe chuckled. “Pet name already.”
“Fuck off.”
“I should be so lucky.” Wolfe nodded at the door. “I’ll put on the asshole’s cowboy hat and Gunner will wear Bobby’s jacket. Hopefully, if anyone sees us from a distance, they’ll just think we’re taking you somewhere as per Beau’s orders. But that means you’ll need to walk between us. Keep your hands down low, like they’re still cuffed. You okay with that?”
“As long as you only look like you’re holding me, I’m fine.” She glanced at Hamilton. “What about you?”
Hamilton gave her a stunning smile. “I’ll stick to the shadows. Cover your six.”
“But you don’t have any weapons.” She held up the baton. “And I doubt this will do us much good. You have to be insanely close to use it.”
“That’s okay. You keep it as backup. Wolfe has that asshole’s rifle, and Gunner grabbed Bobby’s pistol. I have a couple of knives. That’s more than enough.”
“A couple of knives? What are you going to do, throw them?”
Hamilton winked at her. “If necessary.”
She groaned, feeling the world start to shift again. God, what had she gotten herself into? And who were these guys? She’d known from the moment Hamilton had started firing at the zombies the previous night that he had skills. Then the way he’d muscled off Beau’s men while she was trying to regain her feet had only added to her assumption. They weren’t military reserve. Not unless Special Ops had a farm team she’d never heard about. Of course, being men in uniform didn’t guarantee her safety. Beau had worn a similar one and he was nothing short of evil. Though there was definitely something about them—a gut feeling—that assured her they weren’t like the other men she’d run into. That what Hamilton had claimed might actually apply to them. God, they’d allowed her to keep the damn stun baton. And if they had wanted to turn her over to Beau and gain points, they’d already passed up more than a couple of chances.
Morgan released a weary breath. The cold hard truth was that she didn’t have many options. The guys were right. She felt like shit and just standing there took most of her strength. She could only imagine how hard actually walking out of here would be.
Hamilton gave her hand a squeeze. “Just say the word, and I’ll scoop you up.”
She snorted. “I’m quite capable of walking.”
“Right. And just because you look like a bloody ghost and your entire body is still dancing a jig doesn’t mean anything. Perfect.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
His gaze slid to her hips and backside before returning to her face. “Good guys usually are. Remember. Just give me a sign and I’ll help you.”
She nodded, wanting to refute the notion but aware it’d be a lie. Instead, she moved forward between Gunner and Wolfe as the men cracked open the door, scanning the surrounding area before looking at her.
Gunner smiled. “You ready?”
“More than.”
“We’ll have to walk like we belong. Three people skulking along are sure to draw attention. But if we do get spotted, follow Wolfe. He’ll see you get clear of the grounds.”
She glanced at the man in question. “But what about—”
Wolfe cut her off with a warm finger over her lips. “Don’t worry about either of them. Beau has no idea who he’s up against.”
Wolfe’s claim sent a shiver tingling down her spine, only she wasn’t convinced it was fear this time. It felt more like a tendril of excitement. An awakening of a part of her she’d long since buried. And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
Gunner nudged her forward, giving her another stunning smile as they left the barn, turning right toward one of the other buildings. The man seemed to know where he was heading, which either meant they’d been casing the compound like they’d said or that she was about to be betrayed. A shadow passed in the distance as one of Beau’s men stopped to survey the yard. He gave a single salute, moving on again when Wolfe returned it. He glanced over at her, winking his reassurance as they halted at the corner of the far barn, cloaking themselves in the dark pools lining the building.
Hamilton popped out a few feet in front of them, waving them closer. Morgan swung her head around, searching the area behind them. Christ, when the hell did the man get in front of them? He’d been tailing them the entire way. Yet there was no mistaking it was Hamilton as they regrouped, the man’s face blurring into focus.
He darted in beside them, huddling close. “There are three trucks parked inside and another, smaller one just around the corner. It doesn’t look like much but it’ll be a far sight safer to steal. We’d have to open the large, double doors at the rear of the barn if we want one of the others.”
Gunner shook his head. “That’d make way too much noise and draw every one of Beau’s men. We don’t have that kind of time or the resources to fight them off. And it’s only a matter of time before they find Bobby and that other bastard.”
Ham nodded. “What do you want to do about the guards once we reac
h the gate? There’s always at least two of them standing watch.”
Gunner grimaced. “I hate to take out anyone still remotely human. Even the idiots here. Some might be as much the victim as the others. Beau made it quite clear you agree to be one of his brothers, or he kills you.”
Morgan huffed. “Right. Being a guy in this camp is the hard part.”
“I’m not saying that to lessen anything the women have suffered. Beau’s a psychopath. He gets pleasure out of hurting anyone and everyone. That doesn’t mean every one of the men here are bastards, too. There’s got to be the odd one that doesn’t abuse the women.”
“Yeah. You three.”
Gunner’s expression sobered. “Fuck. Just our luck. We go in search of possible survivors and end up at some twisted version of the Playboy mansion. This sucks.” He pushed a hand through his brown hair, looking as if he wanted to pull some of it out. “Fine. We hit the gate. Eliminate any threat. But we do it as quietly and as minimally as needed.”
Hamilton motioned to Wolfe’s rifle. “No silencer.”
“I know.” Gunner grunted. “I’m banking on the fact you haven’t lost your touch with a knife.”
“All I need to do is see them.”
“Got it. Let’s get the hell out of here. This place is fucked up.”
Morgan followed them around the corner, scoffing at the truck Hamilton wanted to use. They’d be lucky to get two of them in the cab based on how large all the men were. Even then it’d be a tight squeeze. She wasn’t sure how the man thought they’d all fit.
Gunner laughed as he jumped behind the wheel, shoving his hand under the steering column and yanking a bunch of cables out. He flipped through them, picking out a couple before motioning to Hamilton. The man gave Gunner one knife, waiting as he stripped the wires then handed back the weapon.
Morgan raised a brow. “They teach you how to hotwire cars in the reserves?”
