Promise Me Forever

by Paige Weaver

  David interrupted the standoff before things got out of hand.

  “Frankie sent you, didn’t he?” he asked with a loud, booming voice full of authority. “You’re his killing machine and do the dirty work.”

  The man’s gaze moved to David as if he just noticed the old man was there. “And you’re the doc slash preacher. I heard you drove into town like an avenging angel to save the day. No one was expecting that. You got the whole town talking, old man. That makes you a target too. All of you are.”

  Tate glanced at me, his eyes wide with fear. I felt my skin crawl with a dark foreboding. A feeling that made me want to grab our meager supplies and run.

  Cash held his gun steady. “What are your orders?”

  The soldier ignored the question and looked at me. Before my eyes, he changed. He went from dangerous to someone harmless and nonthreatening. I wasn’t sure if it was an act but the boy that had danced with me at a college party was back and the mercenary was gone.

  “They said you had green eyes and black hair. I had no idea that you were the girl they were talking about.” His eyes made a leisure path down my body and back up. “What are the chances?”

  I shoved down my uneasiness, refusing to be afraid. “What else did they tell you about me?”

  “They said you might be dead.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I retorted. “I’m very much alive.”

  The soldier grinned, amused. “No, ma’am you’re not. At least not yet.”

  A shiver ran over me as if a ghost walked through me.

  Cash must have had enough because he eased his finger over the trigger. “Enough. I asked you a question. What are your orders?”

  The soldier slid his gaze away from me to Cash. His eyes went hard. Lethal. It was then I saw the killer in him.

  “My name is Adam and my orders don’t matter. What matters is that they are coming for you. Run while you still can.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cat

  Cash didn’t move, his gun still trained on the soldier’s head. “How much time do we have until they show up?”

  Adam peered up at him with his one good eye, ignoring the gun in his face.

  “A week,” he answered. “Give or take.”

  Cash frowned and jutted his chin out at Adam. “You know anything about a blonde and a black-haired guy that were with us?”

  Adam shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of them.”

  Always the hothead, Tate snorted. “Why should we believe you? Hilltop is full of liars and thieves. You might be one of them.”

  Adam smiled wickedly. “I am. But you should believe me because I know these men and I know every move they make. I’ve fought beside them. I’ve trained them and taught them everything I know. They are a bloodthirsty group. They will find you and when they do, it won’t be pretty.”

  “So why shouldn’t we just kill you on the spot, then?” Tate asked, shrugging. “Leave them a little welcoming gift.”

  Adam didn’t move a muscle, undercurrents of warning flowing from him. “Because, kid, once I saw her, everything changed. Orders can be damned and loyalty can be screwed. I don’t kill people I know, at least the ones I care about.” He looked at Cash. “Get her out of here.”

  Cash’s muscles seemed to constrict and tighten more under his clothes as if he was debating whether to strangle the soldier or believe him. Finally, he lowered the weapon.

  “I want someone outside at all times. I want to know if a leaf falls or a branch breaks. I don’t want these fuckers to get the drop on us,” he said, looking from Tate to David. “Be ready to leave.”

  Tate mumbled his understanding.

  David cleared his throat, now that the tension had ebbed. “Cash, you and Cat are hurt. Let’s get you patched up before we do anything else. Doctor’s orders.”

  I reached up, touching the cut on my forehead as he headed to the kitchen for first aid supplies. I felt Cash staring at me, his own head bleeding. When his gaze touched on the gash on my forehead, he frowned.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him but his frown only deepened.

  He handed his shotgun to Tate and started toward me. “He moves, pull the trigger,” he said, pointing at Adam but keeping his gaze locked on me.

  He reached for me but I scooted away. He was still the man who had said we were over. That wanted me to stop loving him. That had used sex to prove he was an asshole. I didn’t want him touching me.

  He let out a low rumble of annoyance and wrapped his hand around my upper arm. “You’re bleeding, Cat. You’re not okay.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but clamped it shut when he glowered at me with warning. I sulked, not happy, but didn’t try to fight him when he started pulling me toward the kitchen where David was searching for the medical supplies.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Cash muttered, grabbing the small box of first aid right out of David’s hand as we walked by. David was left standing open-mouthed, staring after us.

  “Let her take care of you too, son. You’re a mess!” he called out as Cash pulled me toward the bedroom.

  It was dark and cold. I could see little puffs of air as I exhaled. Cash led me over to the middle of the room and let me go. He sat the first aid kit on the bed and lit a candle then headed over to the corner of the room where a small gas heater sat. Kneeling down, he lit it. The little heater flared to life, a warm red glow illuminating the room.

  Once the heater was working, Cash stood up and turned to face me.

  “Sit down.”

  I bristled at his tone. I had one rule. Men couldn’t boss me around. But somehow Cash always did.

  “How about you sit down?” I retorted, growing angry. “You’re still bleeding and I’m not.”

  Cash’s gaze turned hard. His mouth tightened. “Fine,” he muttered, stomping past me to the bed.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking pissed and impatient. The candlelight played over him, making him appear even more ominous and big. I took one tiny step toward him, suddenly nervous. We were alone. He looked so…sexy. It was a combination that always got me in trouble.

  I hesitated, knowing my weakness.

  He looked up at me, his knees spread. “Come here.”

  There he was again. The man he had become. The cowboy I couldn’t resist. Strong. Demanding. A quiet strength that couldn’t be denied.

  I chewed on my bottom lip, glancing down at his hands. His long fingers were spread over his thigh. It was such an innocent pose but fuck, there was nothing innocent about what those fingers could do to me. Just seeing his hand lightly resting on his thigh made me wet and needy. Memories of him behind me, touching me with those fingers, making me cry out and come, had me burning on fire again.

  Damn him! We were over. Finished. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls anymore. No more sex for the sake of fucking. No more giving into my carnal needs. I was stronger. My heart was broken but my body didn’t know that. I could ignore him.

  Maybe.

  I stiffened my resolve and went to him. He didn’t speak or move. He just watched me walk toward him with those chaotic gray eyes of his, staying still as if he was afraid I might bolt.

  The silence was heavy, sucking all the air out of the room. The murmur of voices outside the bedroom reminded me that no one was listening. We could do whatever we wanted.

  On the bed.

  The floor.

  Against the wall.

  In the chair.

  God, I was crazy with need.

  As I got closer to him, I grew hotter. My knees weaker. My fingertips tingled. My skin became sensitive. My palms grew moist.

  Cash parted his legs, making room for me. I swallowed hard, seeing that space for me. So close to what could make me scream.

  He looked up at me patiently, waiting. I pretended like he wasn’t affecting me and stepped between his legs. I was just there to take care of his cuts. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  He kept his hands on his legs in a safe p
lace. One small inch and his fingers would be on me, sliding between my legs and going home.

  This is not good. Not good. I ignored that little voice in my head and cleared my throat.

  “Let me look,” I whispered, reaching out to touch the bloody gash right above his hairline, trying to ignore how close my breasts were to his mouth.

  He hissed and pulled away when my fingers touched the tear.

  “Big baby,” I whispered.

  He grunted and peered up at me, the flickering light from the candle playing over his face.

  I blushed and stepped away to grab the washcloth next to the large, ceramic bowl that Tate filled with hot water for me to bathe with. The apocalypse’s idea of a bath.

  I dipped it in the now cold water and turned back to Cash. This time when I returned between his legs, he touched the outside of my thigh. It was just a light touch, barely there, but I felt it down to my toes.

  I went motionless, holding the washcloth halfway to his head. My heart beat faster. I drew shallow breaths. He doesn’t want to be with you, I told myself. Get over it!

  “How bad is it?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble of sex and desire and all the things I craved.

  It’s awful. Terrible. Delectable. Addicting. The words were on the tip of my tongue but I wasn’t thinking of his injuries.

  I cleared my mind and focused on what I was doing. I started dabbing the wound on his head, leaning closer to get a better view. The gash was gaping open, half of it disappearing in his hairline. I wanted to stalk out of the bedroom and punch Adam in the face a few times for it.

  “You need stitches,” I said, giving the wound a quick dab. “I’ll go get David.”

  I turned to leave but Cash grabbed my wrist.

  “No. Stay.”

  He pulled me back between his legs. Letting go of my wrist, he put his hand on the back of my thigh again, pulling me closer.

  “Just patch me up. I need to go back out and make sure no one else was with that man.”

  “Adam,” I said automatically, tilting Cash’s head forward so I could get a good look at the gash on his head.

  His gaze snapped up to mine. Heated fury swirled in his eyes. I let go of his head and cleared my throat.

  “His name is Adam.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I went back to cleaning the wound and wiping blood away from his face. There were bruises on his cheekbone that were turning an ugly color of purple. A cut on his lip was already scabbed over. He was a mess but Adam looked a million times worse.

  “How do you know him?” he asked as I leaned over to open the first aid kit beside him on the bed.

  My stomach flopped. Oh shit.

  I snapped open the box and rummaged inside, wondering what I would say. I almost had sex with him? I was drunk and trying to forget about you? Nothing seemed right, but I had to tell him the truth. At least part of it.

  “I was with him when the EMP hit,” I said before I could change my mind. “I met him that night.”

  Cash went rigid. What I said seemed to hang in the air between us.

  I leaned over to grab a butterfly bandage from the first aid kit, my throat tight. Tears prickled the back of my eyes. I couldn’t run from my past or forget what I once was. It would follow me, making me pay for every drunk, stupid decision I had ever made.

  “Shit,” I whispered, sniffing and trying to open the bandage package with shaky hands. I couldn’t look at Cash. I was afraid to. If I saw the rejection in his eyes or hate, I might fall apart.

  He took the package from me, his fingers grazing mine.

  “Where were you, when the EMP hit?” he asked, opening the package and handing it back. His eyes were hard pieces of granite staring at me.

  I didn’t want to answer but I swore to always tell him the truth.

  “I was at a party. I was drunk and—”

  Cash interrupted me, his voice harsh in the silent bedroom. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Just finish bandaging me up. I’ve got to go.”

  He hated me. He really did. I could see it in the rigid line of his body. In the way he held himself distant even though his hand stayed on my thigh.

  I took a deep, cleansing breath and raised on my tiptoes to see the gash on his head better. “I didn’t know him that well but I don’t think he’ll hurt me or lead them back here.”

  Cash scoffed. “You really believe that?” he asked, his forehead brushing against my chest.

  “Yes.”

  He sighed with resignation. His warm exhale sent tingles over my skin. His fingers on the back of my thigh felt intimate. Familiar. I was reminded again of what Luke had said in my dream. Cash was home.

  I put the butterfly bandage on his gash as carefully as I could. His hair was still matted with dried blood despite my best efforts to clean it. His skin was still tinged red from where I had wiped the blood away. The wound would probably scar but it would only add to his rugged appearance.

  With the bandage in place, I lowered back to the heels of my feet and started to step away but Cash didn’t let me go. His hand stayed on the back of my thigh. His eyes traveled up my body, taking their time, touching on every curve and slope.

  Without a word, he eased me back a step so he could stand up. His body brushed against mine. His height made me feel small.

  He reached back and grabbed gauze from the first aid kit.

  “Your turn.”

  I stood still as he dabbed at the cut on my forehead until the blood was gone. Grabbing a Band-Aid out of the kit, he tore the package open and put it on my cut.

  It hurt, watching him avoid looking at me. He was gentle and caring as he took care of me, but his body was tense as if he was about to explode.

  Backing away, he shut the first aid kid. “Is it bleeding?” he asked, keeping his eyes off me.

  I knew what he was talking about. The wound in my side.

  I glanced down. “I’m not sure.”

  “Let me see.”

  He straightened up and returned to stand in front of me. Grabbing the lapels of his jacket that I still wore, he tugged it off me and tossed it behind him onto the bed.

  I felt bare. Silly, I know. I still had on a shirt and jeans. But this was Cash and only a thin layer stood between him and me.

  He lifted the edge of my shirt. The wide, square bandage over my left side was exposed but so was the curve of my breast.

  He became motionless, his hand gripping my shirt. His knuckles brushed my nipple. The need that always existed between us flared. Like an obsession, I needed him. I wanted him in me, pounding me hard and deep until I screamed. I wanted to feel his hands on my breasts, squeezing and tormenting, holding them for his mouth. I wanted to feel him explode in me, soaking my insides until there was no doubt he had claimed me.

  I parted my lips. A flush warmed my body. There was a man outside bruised by Cash’s hands, warning us that men were coming. We were low on food. Cash said we were over. Sex with him should be the very last thing on my mind. War, death, violence, rage, heartache – none of it could stop me from wanting him. My need for him was that strong.

  He gripped my shirt in his fist with self-possessed control. I stood frozen, unable to move, wishing he would just touch me.

  He took a step closer. His thighs moved against me. His warm breath blew strands of my hair on the top of my head. I could almost see the war he fought with himself.

  A second later, a curtain came down over him. Icy reserve took over.

  “There’s no blood. You’re fine,” he muttered, dropping my shirt back in place and moving away from me. Indifferent. Unfeeling. Remote.

  I grabbed his jacket and thrust my arms through the holes with angry stabs. “So I’ll survive?”

  He pulled the pistol from his holster and opened up the chamber, checking for bullets. “You’ll survive.”

  Aggravation made me want to yell and scream. I stuck my chin up in the air and hoped he couldn’t see how hurt I was.

  “An
d will you survive?” I burst out as he headed to the door.

  He stopped, his back to me. I didn’t think he would answer, but he turned around, taking his time. He had that gun in his hand and one hip cocked, looking like the cowboy he was.

  “Will I survive what?” he asked in a chilly tone. “You? This? That man out there being here?”

  I licked my dry lips and met his stare boldly. “Yes. Everything.”

  He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a spine-tingling tone. “As far as you and me, I’ll survive. As far as him… He touched you, Cat. The real question is, will he survive?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cash

  I walked out of the bedroom with furious strides. To say I was pissed was an understatement. Cat believed that asshole wasn’t a threat. I didn’t know which was worse – knowing she trusted him or knowing she had been with him not long after she was with me.

  I hadn’t been prone to anger or violence before the EMP hit. But afterward, I changed. Do or die. Kill or be killed. Take or be taken. They were sayings that had been burned in my brain since the electrical grids went down. This stranger…this man sent to hunt us down…had been with Cat. The more I thought of it, the angrier I got. The more I wanted to go apeshit on his ass.

  I ignored David who glanced up at me and Tate standing nearby, picking at one of his fingernails with a pocketknife. I ignored the chill in the air and the way my mind nagged me to make sure Cat was warm enough. I ignored the flickering light from the candle someone had lit, chasing away the encroaching darkness. All I could think and pictured was the bastard touching Cat. Kissing her. Taking her clothes off.

  He glanced up at me. His face was battered and bruised. His right eye was swollen shut and the left wasn’t looking so good either. I didn’t care. I was going to add some more black and blue to it.

  Starting now.

  I crossed the living room in three quick strides. If someone had tried to step in front of me, I would have thrown them out of the way. Tate was smarter than that though and so was the preacher. Can’t say I was in that moment. When it came to Cat, I was reckless.

  Adam wasn’t surprised to see me barreling toward him. That just pissed me off more. I pulled back my fist and slammed it down on his face.