by Debra Kayn
Quint pulled Katelynn against his chest and leaned down, whispering to her. Carly took in the love between them, envious of how they had each other to lean on. It was apparent to her that Katelynn and Iliana were hearing some of the details for the first time. Neither one of them left, only moved closer to the men they loved.
Evie and Carly were outsiders brought together by one common interest. To see her father pay.
She turned to her mom, reaching for her hand. The memories of a time when she looked forward to her dad coming home and the trips to the barn he'd taken with her while she rode her horse were a thing of the past. She'd grown up and recognized the lack of empathy, the wrong emotions in the house, and the stress and heartache that filled her life as she struggled to put on a façade around him, so not to make him aware of her plans.
The more she learned, the more she was ashamed that his blood ran in her body. She couldn't pick who her father was, but she could make sure the crimes he committed ended, and he paid for the hurt he'd caused everyone involved.
Tears filled her eyes. Her inadequacy to solve everyone's troubles ached inside of her. She blinked, afraid the others would mistake her emotions for loyalty to her father.
"Carly?" whispered her mom.
Swallowing, she said, "Hm?"
Her mom patted her hand. "It's going to be okay."
Looking into her mother's eyes, she barely recognized the confidence coming from her. Being around the men made her mom have hope again. For that, she added another thing on her list to be thankful for.
Her mother was only thirty-eight years old. Younger than the men in the room. She still had a life she could enjoy. Find something she loved to do and fill her days with people who made her life richer.
Grasping onto her mom's assurance, Carly nodded and whispered, "I hope so."
Chapter 22
Carly sat at the desk in the house above the bunker. Mark closed the door after having come in from hosing off the rentals outside.
He looked down the hall. "Where's your mom?"
They'd agreed to stay in the bunker and only come up in the house when they couldn't stand being underground anymore. Both women spent the majority of the day in the office all week. Apparently, only he enjoyed the simple comfort of staying in the bunker.
"She went down to put the clothes away that Katelynn and Iliana gave her and take a nap." Carly looked up from the pile of magazines in front of her. "What kind of ATV did I rent?"
"A Polaris." He took off his hat and tossed it on the desk. "Why?"
She fanned the pages of the top magazine with her thumb and skimmed the pages. "Just curious."
He walked around behind her chair and leaned over her shoulder, flipping through the dealer catalogs in front of her. Tapping the page, he said, "Right there."
"Cool." She bent her head, studying the picture.
He inhaled the sweetness coming from her hair, knowing she used his shampoo, but it'd never smelled that way on him.
"If I ever get another chance, I'm going to rent from you again. Maybe take my mom up in the mountains. I think she'd like that." She turned her head.
Inches from her mouth, he ogled her plump lips. "You don't have to rent."
"No?"
His cock pulsed. "But, you do have to wait until it's safe."
The light went out in her eyes. "You know what I really feel bad about?"
He imagined her list was long. "What?"
"I used my vacation time at work to come here, and it's been longer than I was allowed." She moistened her lips. "I've lost my job. I went into this knowing it could happen, but now that it has it's weird."
"Feeling weird is bad?"
"No, it's this overwhelming feeling of having to start over. I've been working since I was eighteen years old. It feels weird. Not bad feelings, considering what is going on, but I don't know what to do with myself. I'm antsy and..."
"Bored?" He needed to keep her talking so he wouldn't kiss her.
"Yeah." She sighed and her gaze lowered to his mouth.
That curious look. That innocence. That hunger.
He could tell her why she was overwhelmed, but she needed to figure out the reason herself. Now was not the time to distract her and dipping his tongue into her sweet mouth would only complicate his life. It was hard enough trying to sleep the last week with her prancing around the bunker in one of his shirts and nothing else when she was winding down for the night.
Having her mom stay with them put Carly at ease while he'd tried to hide the fact he wanted to be the one in bed with her.
"Mark?"
He dragged his gaze up to her eyes. "Yeah?"
"What does it feel like to kiss someone with a beard?" She touched her lips with her finger. "Does it tickle you, too?"
"You've never been kissed?" He straightened, putting distance between them.
She snorted and leaned back in the chair, swiveling to keep him in sight. "Why would you even think that? I'm twenty-four years old."
"You asked." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, hoping ten feet away from Carly was a safe distance to keep his hands off her.
"I asked about your beard. I wasn't hinting around for you to ask about my kissing history." She shrugged. "I was just curious. I've never been with a man with a beard before."
He ran his hand down his jaw. "You talk like that's in your plans."
"That depends." She stood and approached him. "Will you kiss me?"
He growled. "You can't just come up to a man and ask him to do that."
"Do you need to practice first?" A dimple showed in her cheek as she tried to keep her amusement in check.
"You're looking for trouble, Carly." He looked over her head out the window. "Don't push me or you might regret it when I don't walk away from you."
"We're both adults." She planted her hands on his chest. "It's just a kiss."
Just a kiss? There was no such thing when it came to all the emotions she brought out in him simply by standing in front of him.
He tilted his chin up, keeping his mouth out of her reach. "You're going to need to find something else to beat your boredom."
She reached up and trailed her fingers down his beard, sighed in disappointment or maybe acceptance, and said, "Whatever."
Carly turned away from him. His cock throbbed and viewing her ass swinging as she walked only compounded his problem.
She looked over her shoulder as if reading his mind. He dared not move as first her shoulders turned and then she changed direction and came back to him, grabbing a chair on her way.
Before he could guess her intention, she stepped up on the seat, putting her at an equal level, and had him pinned against the wall. She cupped his face, leaned forward, and planted her lips against his.
He stood woodenly feeling her softness, her warmth. Now was not the time. It'd been an emotional week for her. It was unfair for him to take advantage of her offer. He had to keep his attention focused on security and keeping her safe. He needed to...
She rubbed her lips against his.
Fuck it.
He slipped his hand under her hair, behind her neck, and took her closed mouth and opened her lips, deepening the kiss.
And, when he had her completely into him, he wrapped his arm under her ass and took her off the chair, needing her whole body pressed against him.
Her fingers plunged into his hair. He tilted his head, tasting, stroking her with his tongue. His body pulsed with his pounding heartbeat. She was a bundle of energy, and he wanted to feel her around him.
She moaned into his mouth. He turned around and pinned her against the wall, slowly letting her feet touch the ground. The contact of her body going down on him ignited the need to have her completely.
Planting his hands on the wall above her, he gave himself two more seconds. Three more. Four. Damn.
He pulled back and buried his face in the side of her neck. "We can't do this," he whispered, breathing heavily.
&n
bsp; Her hands came up and fisted the front of his shirt. "Why not?"
"Not the right time." He pushed himself away and rearranged his cock in his jeans while he took in her tousled hair and pouty lips. "Kyle and Josh are outside. Business is still open. Your mom's in the bunker."
"Will there be a right time?" She pressed her fingers against her swollen mouth.
If he had his way, he'd take her behind the house and bend her over. "We'll figure it out."
Her lips curved in the closest thing to a smile he'd seen in days. He'd given her that, and he wanted to make sure she had more happiness.
The door opened. He jerked away from her, his hand going to his side.
Kyle stuck his head inside. "A car pulled up. Okay to send them in?"
"Yeah." He picked up his hat and plopped it on his head.
Once the door swung shut, he turned to Carly. "You should go in the bunker."
"Okay." She hurried past him, stopped, came back and kissed him quickly. "It doesn't tickle, and it's not weird. I like the beard. It's you."
He watched her leave the room, waited for the thunk of the bunker door shutting, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart.
Michael Jaster better make his move, because he planned on showing Carly the other benefits of being with a man who had a beard.
Chapter 23
Mark stood in front of the security monitor in the bunker. Carly pressed against his back with her mother by her side. Loud, frantic barks came over the speakers.
At the sound of the dogs, Mark had leaped from the couch, startling her and her mother. She glanced at her mom, shaking her head. Usually, when something suspicious came across the monitor at night, Mark went above ground and checked things out.
Tonight, he only stared at the screen.
"Is it wolves?" she asked, trying to understand his reaction.
"No." He picked up the satellite phone and typed on the screen.
"But you have no neighbors." Evie left Carly's side and sat on the couch. "Are they strays?"
In New Mexico, there were packs of strays that roamed around looking for food. Scavengers that would get into garbage cans and try to take down livestock. At home, they always had their own dogs that lived in the barn that kept the strays away and the horses safe. If her dad were home when the dogs started barking, he would leave the house and come back when the barking stopped. She always assumed he chased them off the property.
"It's Jaster." He turned and faced Carly. "It's his way of threatening me. Letting me know he's out there. Just like he left a dead dog in your car."
Evie captured her gasp of shock with her hand. Carly moved over to her mom. She hadn't mentioned the dog because of Mark going to Albuquerque to rescue her mom.
"What should we do?" asked Carly.
"Nothing." He paused as more barking came over the monitor. "I've let the others know, and now we wait for the dogs to leave or Jaster to show himself."
"Wait." Carly returned to his side. "This whole time when you told me I couldn't go to the police, what had you meant by taking out my father?"
Something about his calmness when explaining his plans for the dogs and the tightness of his body contradicted itself. She understood Mark's desire to kill her father. He and the others had a right to feel that way considering how much terror they lived through and losing three of their friends.
But, she'd assumed he was only talking out his wishes. In the back of her mind, she'd convinced herself that he and the others wanted to capture her dad and take him to the police themselves so they could hide the fact that they'd committed their own crimes instead of having her open a case and have the police question them.
Had she been naive? Wasn't that what they'd told her?
Mark turned away from the screen and gave her all his attention. "We'll decide when the time is right what to do with him."
Frustrated, she wanted an answer now. Her mother had been through too much and waited too long for her father not to pay for his crimes.
The dogs barking changed pitch. Mark turned back to the monitor. Carly held her mom's hand and moved across the bunker, seeing headlights on the screen.
"Who is it?" she asked, feeling her mom press against her back to look.
"I don't know. It's a truck." He walked to the other end of the bunker and opened a long crate, removing a rifle and shoving ammunition in his pockets.
She looked over her shoulder to gauge her mom's reaction at the weaponry. Her fear escalated seeing the worry on her mother's face. Her mom wasn't used to seeing people carrying weapons on their hip, their side, in their pocket like they do in Montana. Much less someone needing a rifle because of visitors arriving after dark.
Even the guard her father employed for the security of the house when it was really to keep her mom a prisoner had never worn a pistol that she'd noticed.
"Stay down here." Mark opened the door and slipped outside before she could question him any further.
Her mom moaned softly and paced the small area. Carly bunched her hair at the back of her neck. She wanted to run after Mark but wanted to assure her mom they were safe. Conflicted, she stayed downstairs.
"He knows what he's doing, mom. He's survived a long time." Carly glanced at the monitor.
The truck remained parked close to the building. She kept an eye on the spot where the door was located, expecting Mark to go outside. There was no place for him to hide. The open parking lot was free of trees and structures, even the ATVs were put in the garage every evening.
"What if Michael kills him and makes it into the bunker," whispered Carly's mom. "We have nowhere to hide."
"He's not going to get in here. Mark locked us in. He's built this place like a fortress." She motioned her mom to come to her. "We can watch, and you'll see that we're safe."
She put her arm around her mom. One of them shook, maybe both, she couldn't tell.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Though she could see the outside on the screen, it was as if she was far, far away.
Besides knowing it was her dad who put the dead dog in her car, she'd never been witness to the deadly behavior he'd exhibited with the others and with her mom in the past. That didn't mean he wasn't capable of killing. She'd read his reports. She'd seen the crosses. She'd memorized the names of the men he hired to do his dirty work.
A beam of light floated past the car. She pointed at the screen, showing her mom. "What do you think that is?"
"I don't know," whispered her mom. "Could it be a flashlight?"
"Oh, maybe." She inhaled deeply, afraid for Mark.
It was hard to associate with what was going on outside when everything on the monitor had a green haze and lacked normal colors. Without night vision, Mark wouldn't be able to see who was out there or who was hiding.
A shudder went through Carly. "I wish the other men were here helping him."
A flash off camera came milliseconds before a loud blast. Carly jolted, reaching for her mom.
"That was a gunshot." She looked from her mom to the security monitor. "Someone is shooting. Is it Mark?"
Tuning out the dogs barking, she focused on the screen without blinking. Each second without seeing Mark thundered in her chest.
The headlights on the truck went out. Carly pointed, making sure her mom noticed. Afraid to talk in case she could hear something, her stomach cramped in fear. She had no idea how her mom handled living this way for almost twenty-five years, and in the next second, she was so glad her mom protected her as long as she had regarding her father.
Her mom squeezed her arm. "Look."
Two small lights weaved side to side in front of the camera. Carly leaned forward, straining to see what caused the shiny spots and another pair showed up on the screen to the left of the first ones.
"What in the world?" she whispered as another set of tiny glowing yellow lights appeared. "Do you hear anything?"
"No." Her mom whispered back.
The small bright
orbs moved as if swaying. A chill crawled up Carly's spine. She panted for breath, fighting the urge to look away. Whatever was out there was evil. She could feel it to the marrow of her bones.
Where was Mark?
The headlights of the truck came on. Carly jerked back from the monitor at the same time she made out that the floating yellow spots on the screen were the eyes of several dogs in front of the house.
A loud explosion came through the speaker. Carly's mother grabbed her. She strained against the hold, hypnotized by the dog flipping in the air and landing on the ground in the beam of the headlights.
She gasped, jolting again as another dog flew back several feet and stopped moving. Unable to hold in her scream, she yelled for Mark.
Her mom covered Carly's mouth with her hand. "Sh."
She nodded, needing her mother to let go of her. Mark was out there alone with someone shooting the dogs.
The revving of an engine stopped her struggle. She panted for breath as the truck backed away and disappeared out of view of the camera. The whine of the vehicle changing gears told her whoever was out there had left.
She turned to her mom. "I’m going out."
"No." Her mom's eyes widened. "Don't be foolish. It's not safe."
"The person is gone and Mark's alone. With all the gunshots, he could be hurt." She ignored her mom's protests and hurried to the locked door.
Flipping the three locks, she managed to get the heavy, solid metal door open. She turned to her mom. "I'll be back soon. Lock the door behind me."
"Carly." Her mom rushed toward her. "Be careful."
She met her mom's gaze, felt the concern, the fear, the added stress she was putting on her. "I will. I promise."
Closing the door, she waited until she heard the three clicks of the locks and ran up the stairs. Stopping at the top, she slowed, easing her way down the dark hallway, listening for any noise and straining to see in the shadows.
Halfway into the front room, she whispered, "Mark? Are you here?"
Stretching her arms out, she felt along the desk, the chair. Her knee connected with a stool. She muffled her groan of pain and caught the object before it clattered to the floor.