Maelstrom

by Susanna Strom

  I clapped a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Get where you’re coming from—you don’t wanna leave a brother in enemy hands—but my mind is made up.”

  Kyle opened his mouth to argue. I shot him a look that quashed any further debate.

  “Okay.” He threw his hands in the air, giving up. “But if you go back, will you at least promise to bring me the next time?”

  “Yeah.” The concession cost me nothing. I’d already planned to do just that.

  Half an hour before sunset, Levi and I got ready to hike back to Valhalla. We’d be traversing uneven ground in the dark, so we’d wear night vision goggles. We’d topped off their charge with our solar powered USB battery pack as soon as we arrived. I’d carry my Colt and the Tavor, in case things went to shit and we found ourselves in a firefight. Levi opted for grandpa’s Glock 17.

  In case of trouble, Kyle, Sahdev, and Mac would keep their sidearms close while Levi and I were gone. They pulled the blinds and turned the lanterns on low, so the house wouldn’t light up like a beacon in the night.

  While Levi was saying goodbye to Hannah, I took Mac’s hand and led her into the back bedroom where we’d thrown our sleeping bags. Had a surprise for her. I’d hung her solar powered moon lantern in a corner of the room. The glowing orb had helped her out after her ordeal with the impostor cop. I hoped seeing it again would make her feel better now that our hopes for Valhalla had gone south, and I had to take off to scout the place.

  “My moon lantern.” She crossed the room and gently touched it. “When you gave it to me, we came this close to kissing for the first time.” She smiled and held a thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart.

  “Yeah. Didn’t kiss then, but we’ve made up for it since then, wouldn’t you say, Mac?”

  “Yes. Yes, we have.” Her smile faltered. “And after Jason...every time I woke up in a panic, you were there, and the moon lantern was chasing away the shadows.” The shadows were in her eyes now, old demons stirring to life. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Mac’s hands were clenched. Soon as she said the words, she frowned and shook her head, as if mad at herself for voicing her fears.

  Mac fought hard to get over her fear of abandonment, but it was still there, hovering in the background, ready to rise up and bite her in the ass. Couldn’t blame her. Not after her parents both ditched her without a backward glance. Not after we’d been separated twice in the past month, with absolutely no guarantee that we’d ever find each other again.

  Mac was afraid of being left behind. I was blown away that I’d connected so deeply with anybody, that home meant people and not just the place where I slept and stowed my shit. Maybe it wasn’t the most promising basis for building a relationship, but what we had was good. I wasn’t gonna fuck it up.

  I gripped her hips and hauled her close. “No way I’ll do anything stupid or careless. Not when I have so much to live for.”

  She nodded. “I know that, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from asking.”

  “It’s a reconnaissance mission. Don’t expect any trouble, but if trouble finds us, I want you to know that I will burn down the world to make it back to you.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Solis.”

  “You do that.” I tapped her nose. “Your phone’s charged. How about you settle down in here and read one of your romance books. Maybe one with a sexy biker and a hot college coed, then later, we can finally act out one of the scenes.”

  Mac groaned, but the sparkle had returned to her eyes. “Why did Kyle have to show you my e-book library? Can’t a girl have any private fantasies?”

  “If you keep your fantasies private, how am I gonna make them come true?”

  She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed me. “You already have.”

  “Darlin', we just got started. Got some fantasies of my own I wanna try out.”

  Mac blushed. After months together, after everything we’d done to each other, her cheeks still flushed red when I talked about sex. It was fucking adorable.

  Somebody rapped on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “You wanted to take off before the sun went down,” Levi called. “We should go now.”

  “Be right there.”

  Mac wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed, as if she could keep me here if she held on tight enough.

  “I’ll be back after first light.”

  Nodding jerkily, she let go of my waist and stepped back. She smiled, but her lower lip trembled. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ripper. You in the mood for pancakes again?”

  “Sounds good.” This separation pushed all of Mac’s buttons, and she was hanging onto her self-control by a thread. A prolonged goodbye would make it harder for her. Brushed my lips over hers—like this was no big deal—then opened the door and followed Levi to the front room.

  Levi and I packed our gear, weapons, a compass, a walkie-talkie, night vision goggles, binoculars, granola bars, and bottles of water. Took us about an hour and a half to hike back to Valhalla. Had to climb over barbed wire fences twice, past signs that read “Valhalla Ranch, No Trespassing.” We hunched down under a juniper tree at the top of one of the small hills that overlooked the ranch house and barns.

  With the night vision goggles, I scanned the property for signs of life. If they were smart, after running us off, they’d expect an incursion and place patrols around the house and outbuildings. After forty minutes I saw no sign of patrols, so I handed Levi the binoculars to keep watch while I committed the layout of the buildings to memory.

  A sprawling, L-shaped ranch house with a wraparound porch anchored the property. I know nothing about ranching, so I had to guess the purposes of several of the buildings. I saw one large barn and two smaller ones. Did they keep cows and horses in separate buildings? Not a clue. Maybe one was a hay barn? My lack of knowledge let me down. Another building had a steep metal roof and was open on two sides, kinda like a carport. Tractors occupied the three bays. A round metal building—either a grain bin or a missile silo—sat next to one of the smaller barns. My money was on grain bin, despite the resemblance to a silo. A windowless, cinder block shed sat some distance from the other buildings on the west side of the big barn. I spied a chicken coop and a large greenhouse.

  “Nobody’s in sight. I could sneak down there and try looking in through the windows,” Levi whispered, lowering the binoculars.

  “No. Not worth the risk.”

  Levi made a face. “Seriously, dude. I’m fast. I won’t get caught.” He rose halfway to his feet before I clamped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

  “What’s your deal?” he protested, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Ain’t a democracy, Levi. You go on a mission with me, you follow orders.”

  “I’m not a moron. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Swear to God,” I said in a low voice. “If you say ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ I’m gonna hog-tie you and carry you back to camp. This’ll be the last mission you go on until you grow up and learn to respect the chain of command.”

  “Who died and left you in charge?” he huffed.

  I cocked my head to one side. “Three years as an Army Ranger. Five years patched in with the Janissaries, the past two as an enforcer for the club. I got the skills and experience to get shit done and to make the hard choices. Can you honestly say the same?”

  He scowled, but kept his mouth shut.

  “We good?” I asked.

  Levi nodded.

  “I’m not a petty tyrant, not like Pastor Bill,” I said in a hushed voice. “Only thing I want is to keep everybody safe. You all bring something to the table and you all have a voice, but when it comes to security, I have the final say.”

  “Okay. I get it.”

  Sound travels at night, and the bang of a screen door hitting a wall drew our eyes to the house. I raised the night vision binoculars to my eyes. Two men stepped onto the covered porch. A stocky older woman stood in the doorway, hands on her
hips, silhouetted against interior lights.

  “If you want to smoke, you’ll do it outside. I won’t have you stinking up the place. Or exposing Libby to the smoke.”

  “Yes, Aunt Jerrilyn,” both men said.

  Jerrilyn. The Widow Wilcox. I recognized her from news stories after her husband’s murder in prison. She’d wailed and called him a martyr to the race wars.

  She slammed the door shut, leaving the men to light their cigarettes. We couldn’t hear their murmured conversation as they paced back and forth on the porch.

  “Still think it would’ve been a good idea to peek in the window?” I said under my breath.

  “You were right,” he conceded, his voice grudging. “I didn’t think anybody was still up.”

  I took that as a good sign. Instead of pouting or serving up more backtalk, he admitted when he was wrong. We could build on that.

  Soon as the two men went back inside, we retreated behind the crest of the hill and crept to a similar position on the other side of the cluster of buildings. The fresh perspective offered nothing new. No movement, no sign of patrols. The members of the Wilcox Brigade apparently were all settled down inside the ranch house.

  Levi and I took turns keeping watch. He dozed, resting his head on crossed arms, during his break. When he spelled me, I allowed my muscles to go slack and my eyelids to form slits. Not asleep, but not entirely awake, alert enough to spring into action if necessary.

  As dawn approached, both Levi and I kept our attention focused on the ranch house. Smoke began to drift from a chimney, signaling that people inside were stirring, probably fixing breakfast. Swore I could smell summer sausage frying in a pan and fresh brewed coffee. My stomach growled.

  Levi grinned. “Jerky?” He offered me a beef jerky stick.

  The front door opened and a woman stepped outside. Wasn’t Jerrilyn, but a much younger woman with waist-length, dark blond hair. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head, then pressed her hands against her lower back. She turned, and I caught sight of her pregnant belly. Was this the Libby that Jerrilyn didn’t want exposed to cigarette smoke? Probably. I was no expert, but I recalled that when Nicole was that big—and complaining that she hadn’t been able to paint her toenails for months—she’d popped within weeks.

  Well, fuck. This was an unwelcome complication. No matter what went down here, we’d have to do what we could to keep the pregnant woman out of harm’s way.

  The young woman picked up a basket and ambled toward the chicken coop. Ten minutes later, she made her way back to the porch, carrying the now-full basket of eggs.

  After a while, the door swung open again, and three men emerged from the house.

  I recognized two of the men, the smokers from last night, Jerrilyn’s nephews. Searched my memory for their names. The two had been arrested for throwing tennis balls off a freeway overpass. They’d written Free Eben on the balls with a black permanent marker. Somebody had posted video of the two lobbing tennis balls into traffic and cars swerving out of the way of the bouncing balls. Had no clue what they hoped to accomplish with the stunt. It had confirmed my suspicion that members of the Wilcox Brigade were dumb shits, one and all.

  Dwight and Darryl Wilcox: the names finally came to me.

  The third man shuffled across the porch and down the steps, his progress hampered by the set of leg irons that connected ankle to ankle. He was taller than the other men and well built, with wide shoulders and muscular arms. Sunlight glinted off his blond hair as he stumbled toward the largest barn. Dwight—or maybe it was Darryl—kept a shotgun trained on his back.

  Never met the man, but I recognized him from Kyle’s description.

  Bear Rasmussen was alive.

  The door creaked on its hinges again, and my gaze swung back to the house, where two more men stepped onto the porch, steaming coffee cups in their hands. The taller man was Boyd Wilcox, Eben’s son, and the family spokesman during his father’s trial. I jerked my head back, stunned, when I spied the shorter, burly man at his side. He turned his back to me, revealing the colors of a familiar motorcycle club on the back of his cut.

  “You know that guy?” Levi whispered.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Name’s Tuck. Vice president of the Satan’s Sabers MC.”

  Of all the people I knew before the flu, why did that motherfucker have to be the one to survive the pandemic?

  TWENTY-SIX

  Kenzie

  Hot breath tickled my cheek and something nuzzled my ear.

  Hector probably needed to go outside to pee. I groaned. I’d lain awake most of the night, falling asleep close to sunrise. Wasn’t anybody else up who could let the dog out?

  “Go away.” I squirmed, rubbing my cheek against the pillow. “Find somebody else to pester.”

  “Well, if you insist, but I kinda figured you’d want to see me first.” Ripper chuckled, sprawled on his side next to me.

  My eyes flew open, and I catapulted myself into his arms. Inhaling deeply, I breathed in his familiar scent, then—seemingly of its own volition—my tongue darted out, and I licked his throat.

  “You are a creature of habit.” He sat up and pulled me onto his lap.

  I tilted back my head to get a good look at him. Not a scratch on him, although the bloodshot eyes and lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth indicated a sleepless night.

  “Did you guys run into any problems on the mission?”

  I deliberately kept my tone light and untroubled, reluctant to reveal how much I’d worried about him during the hours he was gone. It’s not that I lacked faith in his abilities, or believed the mission was particularly dangerous. No. Fate had royally screwed us over in the past month. I thought I’d lost him twice. I didn’t want to be one of those women who fell apart whenever her man disappeared from sight, but it was going to take me a while to recover my emotional equilibrium. I’d get there. Until then I’d revert to my old fake-it-till-you-make-it policy.

  “Nope. Mission went fine.” He caught my chin and tilted my face up so I had to meet his eyes. “How ’bout you, Mac? You have any problems while I was gone?”

  Well...damn. Ripper could see straight through my fake bravura, and he’d have none of it. We’d promised each other a relationship based on honesty, and here I was, trying to hide behind a false mask. Again.

  He waited patiently for me to respond.

  “I...I had a couple of bad minutes after you left. I buried my face in Hector’s neck and I cried like a baby.”

  Ripper nodded, his brows angled low. “And then?”

  “And then I reminded myself how smart and capable you are. That no matter what happens—whether it’s that crazy deputy in Medford or Pastor Bill and all his lies—that you always find your way back to me. So I sucked it up and waited for you to come home. Sahdev and I found a Parcheesi game, and we played till after midnight. I had a hard time falling asleep. I missed you, but I was okay.”

  He smiled, and that elusive dimple dented his cheek. I cherished every time it made an appearance in his normally stoic face and traced the small depression with a fingertip. Ripper turned his head and kissed my palm, tightening his hold on my waist.

  “Thanks,” he said simply.

  Was it really this easy? I’ve always been cautious, think before you speak, my motto. Filtering my words so I didn’t expose my weaknesses. Ripper wanted nothing less than the bare truth. Nothing I’d said so far had led him to turn around and walk away. He saw me—the real me—and judged me good enough.

  He stood, depositing me on my feet. “You wanna get dressed and meet me in the front room? Need to fill everybody in on what we discovered.”

  I glanced down at my sheer pink cami and lace panties. “What? You don’t think I’m decent dressed like this?” I batted my lashes with exaggerated innocence.

  “I know you’re not decent, Ms. Dunwitty. That’s beside the point.” He sighed. “Call me old fashioned, but I don’t like the idea of other men gawking at my woman’s body. Indulge me
, will you?”

  Well, when he put it like that, a request and not an order, it was easy to comply. I didn’t mind his possessive streak, as long as it didn’t get out of hand.

  “Okay, babe.” I snagged my yoga pants from the top of the dresser. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  When I walked into the living room, Hannah handed me a cup of coffee, then twirled around to show off the shorts and tee she was wearing. “I lucked out. The people who lived here had a teenage daughter, and she left a lot of her clothes behind when they took off.”

  I took a seat next to Ripper on the sofa.

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “First of all, Bear Rasmussen is alive.”

  “Thank God.” Kyle pumped a fist in the air.

  “He’s shackled,” Levi said. “And they had a shotgun trained on him when they marched him to the barn. He’s definitely a prisoner and not one of them.”

  Kyle snorted. “Bear’s a good guy. There’s no way he’d sympathize with a bunch of Nazis.”

  “How many people did you see?” Sahdev asked.

  “Besides Bear, six,” Ripper said. “Five from the Wilcox Brigade. Jerrilyn, the founder’s widow. Dwight and Darryl, his nephews. Boyd, his son. And a young woman named Libby, who must be attached to one of the men. She’s pregnant, and from the looks of things, she’s weeks from giving birth.”

  “And the sixth person?” Sahdev said.

  “Man named Tuck,” Ripper said. “Vice president of the Satan’s Sabers, a support club for the Janissaries.”

  “A friend of yours?” Kyle asked, frowning. “Hanging with the Wilcox Brigade?”

  “Hardly a friend. I knew him before the flu, and he’s a total asshole. Last time I saw him was at a club party. His old lady had a black eye and split lip. He said she was a mouthy bitch who deserved what she got.”

  “Charming.” I shuddered. Nazis and a wife beater, what a combination.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Kyle said. “How could five members of any family all survive the flu?”