Tuck was leaning against the counter. “No coffee yet. We were waiting on you, sweet thang.”
“I’m on it,” I said brightly. After lighting a fire in the stove, I worked the hand-crank grinder and filled the old-fashioned enamel pot with water and coffee. “If you men can fill your own cups, I think I’ll go gather the eggs, then get breakfast started.”
Dwight didn’t look up from his boot. “Sure.”
“Tuck?” I hesitated in the archway, a basket in my hand. “Could I talk to you for a minute? Outside?”
“Of course.” He followed me to the front porch.
I set down the basket and laid a hand on his chest, leaning toward him to speak in a low, confidential voice. “I just want to thank you for always being there for me. It means a lot to me.”
Ever the opportunist, Tuck walked right through the door I opened when I touched him. He slipped his arms around my waist and squeezed.
“You can always count on old Tuck, honey.”
I sniffed, as if overcome with grateful emotion, and flung my arms around him.
“Thank you so much.” I slid the key into his pocket. I glanced up at his face. Did he feel that? Would I be found out? He smiled down at me, setting my mind at ease. “It’s good to have a friend.” When he locked his arms around me, I gave a shaky laugh and pulled away. “I better get those eggs so I can have breakfast ready before you all start your day.”
By the time I got back with the eggs, Libby was in the kitchen mixing up a batch of pancakes. I was gathering plates to set the big table in the dining room when Jerrilyn strode into the kitchen. She took one look at the mess Dwight had made and cuffed his head.
“Jackass. Do that outside.”
“Sorry, Aunt Jerrilyn.” He brushed the dirt into his hand—as if that took care of the mess—and slunk outside.
Ripper and Nyx sauntered into the room, his arm hooked around her neck. “Get over here, Mac.”
I carefully set the pile of plates on the counter and walked over to them. Ripper seized my nape and hauled me close for a long kiss. When he let me go, Nyx slipped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek.
Well, weren’t we a happy throuple? The room fell silent as everyone stared.
“What’s for breakfast?” Ripper asked, breaking the spell.
“Pancakes and scrambled eggs.” Libby flipped a pile of pancakes onto a platter and poured more batter onto the griddle. She groaned and pressed both hands against her lower back.
“Do you want me to take over?” I offered, pulling away from Nyx.
“No, I got it.”
“I’ll set the table then.”
“Make yourself useful, too,” Ripper told Nyx, swatting her ass.
The man needed new material in his playbook when he was acting the bossy sexist. The ass smacking was getting old.
“Sure thing, lover,” Nyx purred.
Nyx took the plates while I grabbed place mats, napkins, and cutlery. She bumped hips with me when we walked into the dining room, then grinned and rolled her eyes. I grinned back. This subservient act was so much easier to tolerate when I had a partner in crime.
Libby rang a bell to summon everybody to breakfast. Nine of us sat around the table, six members of the Wilcox Brigade and the three insurgents. If all went well, by noon we’d have vanquished the Nazi lovers and retaken the ranch. This was the last time we’d congregate, the last time I’d have to pretend to be someone I was not. We were on the cusp of change, but only a few of us knew it. How many of the brigade would survive the day? Libby better not take up arms and make a stand with her family. That possibility crushed my appetite.
“Eat something, Mac,” Ripper ordered. “You need to keep your strength up.”
Dwight snickered, and Ripper shot him a death glare.
“Ripper and I will be heading out after lunch,” Boyd announced. “We’ll drive to the armory, take up position, then make our move during the night.”
“Don’t you worry about nothing,” Tuck said. “You can count on the boys and me to take care of every thang while you’re gone.” He looked at me and winked. I daubed at my mouth with a napkin, hiding my grimace. No doubt I was the thang he intended to take care of once Ripper was away. Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander, and all that.
Ripper squeezed my thigh, his touch reassuring. It was never going to happen. The armory was safe from Boyd and the brigade. And Ripper would never leave me behind under the tender care of Tuck and the boys.
Nibbling halfheartedly at a pancake, I went over our plan in my mind. After breakfast, Tuck would fetch Bear from the back room. Dwight, Darryl, and Ripper would escort Bear to the barn to begin his day’s labors. Kyle and Levi should be in position on a hill overlooking the barn, ready to leap into action at Ripper’s signal. The plan had to be flexible. Depending on what happened with Bear, it might be several hours before Ripper made his move. At the very least, he’d allow time for Nyx and me to clear the table and do the dishes before he acted. Nyx and I would retreat to our bedroom. When we heard gunfire outside, we’d barricade the door, then Sahdev, Nyx, and I would crawl out the window and flee.
“Good grub. Thanks ladies.” Tuck patted his belly and stood. “I’ll go get the cowboy.”
He ambled away from the table, and one by one, the rest of the group followed suit. Once Bear shuffled to the front room, Libby handed him a cold pancake and a mug of coffee, then Ripper, Dwight, and Darryl led Bear outside. Tuck settled down in the living room. He spread a towel on the coffee table and began disassembling and cleaning his gun. With any luck, he’d still be at it when Ripper made his play.
Libby looked pale and her ankles were swollen twice their normal size. Sighing, she stared at the dirty kitchen.
“You look beat. Why don’t you go lie down? Nyx and I can take care of the dishes,” I suggested.
Libby nodded gratefully. “I would like to put my feet up.”
Two down. Maybe our plan would go off without a hitch.
Nyx and I scrambled to quickly clean up after breakfast, rushing so we’d be in place when we heard Ripper’s cue. Just as Nyx dried the last dish and I finished wiping down the counters, Boyd stuck his head into the kitchen.
“Mama and I would like to have a word with you two out on the porch.”
Nyx and I exchanged a glance.
“Could it wait until later?” I asked. “We were up late and were hoping to take a nap before lunch.”
Boyd narrowed his eyes, clearly not accustomed to having his orders questioned. “Now means now.”
We followed Boyd to the porch, where Jerrilyn sat ensconced like a queen in a wicker rocking chair. She folded her hands on her lap and fixed us with her steely gaze.
“Sit down.” She nodded to the porch swing. Nyx and I perched side by side on the cushioned seat. “You two going to be able to keep on making nice with each other?”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Boyd added. “We all need to work together for a common goal. We got no time or patience for cat fights.”
Funny, I would have guessed that cat fights was exactly what Jerrilyn hoped to see.
“Mac and I made our peace,” Nyx assured him.
“Ripper made clear what he wants,” I added. “I thought about it and decided I’d rather share him than give him up.”
“We got high hopes for Ripper.” Boyd leaned against the porch railing. “He’s smart. A skilled soldier. We can’t have him distracted by squabbling females.”
Cat fights. Squabbling females. Boyd needed to pull his head out of his ass. What was this, the 1950s? I swallowed my annoyance. “That won’t happen. I promise.”
“It could work out for the best,” Jerrilyn mused aloud. “Ripper is fit and naturally athletic. Smart, like Boyd said. Good breeding stock. Likely to father strong, healthy children. With him as the father, you two girls could make a real contribution to the white gene pool.”
A contribution to the white gene pool. Be still my heart.
&nb
sp; “Give us a little time to have our fun.” Nyx laughed. “We have years ahead of us to make babies.”
“How old are you?” Jerrilyn demanded.
“Twenty-two,” I said.
“I’m twenty-five.” Nyx tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“It’s never too soon to perform your duty to the master race,” Boyd said firmly.
I had no words—none I could say out loud—so I nodded dumbly.
“Boyd! Come quick.” Tuck’s cry interrupted our conversation. The panic in his voice propelled us all through the door and into the living room.
Libby stood in the middle of the room, bent over double, clutching her stomach. “The baby,” she gasped. “It’s coming.”
FORTY-ONE
Ripper
When we got to the barn, Dwight removed Bear’s leg irons. Darryl watched, his shotgun at the ready. Most mornings, Bear moved five horses from the stable to a corral, then he went back to the stable and scooped crap and soiled straw into a wheelbarrow.
My gaze wandered over the grounds while Bear moved the first horse. I know squat about ranching, but from my handful of days on the property, even I could see that Valhalla would need major renovation once we kicked out the brigade.
No matter how hard they worked Bear, there’s no way one man could keep the place going. Dwight told me that they’d loaded a pickup and dropped off hay several times, and that Bear insisted that he had to mend a broken-down fence. But don’t cattle have to be moved around from one pasture to another? What happens if they’re left to wander on their own for months? Maybe they could fend for themselves. Maybe they’d long since succumbed to hunger or thirst or whatever it is that kills cows. Maybe they’d found a break in some fence and took off—literally—for greener pastures.
Horses aren’t my ride. Only thing I want between my legs is my Harley. Or Mac. Still, it struck me as wrong that these magnificent beasts weren’t allowed to run. How long could they live such a constrained life without crippling them or breaking their spirits?
It was past time to make things right at Valhalla.
Bear finished moving the horses to the corral, but instead of returning to the stable to clean out the stalls, he led us to a series of outbuildings on the west side of the barn. He picked today to vary his habits? Great.
Funny how quickly a plan can go sideways, how freakishly fast a simple, bulletproof strategy can go tits-up, giving the lie to both the notion of simple and bulletproof. Believing that anything nowadays was easy or straightforward was laughable. I knew better, but I fucked up.
Maybe hubris bit me in the ass. Maybe the dumb luck I despised ran out. Maybe the dipshit brothers were smarter than I thought.
Nah. It had to be the luck.
“What’s he up to?” I asked Dwight as we approached the open-sided building that held three tractors.
“Something on the tractor is busted. He said he needs to fix it before he shovels out the stables.”
Bear stepped up to a long, tool-covered workbench that ran along one interior wall. Dwight waved his shotgun at the cowboy, and Darryl reached for his pistol.
“No funny business,” Darryl warned.
Bear lifted a wrench and shot the brothers an exasperated look.
“I have to clean the carburetor, sharpen the blade on the Bush Hog, and adjust the wheels. You think I can do that with my bare hands?”
The brothers scowled at him, but Dwight gestured for Bear to go ahead. While Bear set the brakes on the tractor and positioned jack stands to support the machinery’s weight, I surreptitiously scanned the hilltops for any sign of my friends. Nothing yet. Bear climbed under the tractor to loosen some bolts, then reemerged to open a small metal hatch on top of the frame. I couldn’t see what he was doing, probably messing with more nuts and bolts.
Dwight and Darryl’s attention wandered. After glancing their way, Bear crawled back under the tractor. When he got back on his feet, he stood awkwardly, an arm pressed to his side. He caught me looking and nodded toward his thigh. His fingers were wrapped around one end of what looked like a carbon-steel rotary blade. The thing was longer than his arm.
Bear had hijacked the mission. It was too late to dissuade him. As soon as Dwight or Darryl spied the blade, the jig would be up.
“What the fuck is that?” I pointed out an open bay door, drawing the brothers’ eyes away from their prisoner.
Dwight and Darryl’s heads snapped up, and they craned their necks to peer outside. Bear rushed toward them, swinging the blade two-handed, like a medieval broadsword. The steel struck Dwight’s shoulder. Bones crunched, and his shotgun clattered to the cement floor. Dwight howled in pain and dropped to the floor, cradling his shoulder. Darryl whirled around, raised his pistol, and fired.
FORTY-TWO
Kenzie
Jerrilyn took over, barking orders. “Boyd, help Libby back to your room. Nyx, put water on to boil. Tuck, go get the doctor.”
A single gunshot blast shattered the quiet outside.
Crap, what timing.
Jerrilyn glanced through the open front door. “The boys are probably shooting at rabbits again.”
“I’ll get towels,” I interrupted before she could assign me a task. I sprinted toward the bedroom, desperate to get Sahdev out of the house before Tuck discovered that he was missing and put two and two together.
Sahdev leaped to his feet when I ran into the room. I shoved a chair under the door knob and rushed over to slide open the window.
“Libby is in labor,” I gasped. “Tuck’s about to find out that you’re gone. You have to get out of the house right now.”
Instead of dashing toward the window, Sahdev stood rooted in place, shaking his head.
“Sahdev, come on,” I urged.
“And what about you and Nyx?” he asked.
“We’ll be fine. They have plans for us. They won’t throw away prime breeding stock.” I frantically beckoned him to the window.
Was that tapping sound footsteps running up the hall or my own jackhammering heart?
“I won’t leave you behind to face their wrath,” he said quietly. “And I won’t abandon Libby. She’s my patient.”
“She’s a freaking Nazi,” I hissed. I clutched at his arms, as if I could physically compel him to put himself first and to flee. We lived in a harsh new world and confronted brutal choices every day. I wished no harm on Libby, but if forced to choose, I’d pick Sahdev’s well-being over hers any day. “Once you deliver the baby, they’ll probably kill you for trying to escape.”
“The baby is an innocent, and you’re my friend. I won’t go.” He gently extricated himself from my hands, walked to the door and removed the barricade. Stepping into the hallway, he lifted his hands in an I surrender pose. “I’m here,” he called.
I followed him through the doorway and looked up the hall in time to see Boyd grab Sahdev’s arm and shove him toward Libby’s room. Boyd cast me a malevolent sideways glance, but said nothing as they passed by. Tuck walked toward me, his eyes glittering and a small smile distorting his lips. His gleeful expression raised goosebumps on my arms, and I almost tripped backing into the room. He followed me at an unhurried pace.
“Thought you could outsmart old Tuck.” He jammed the chair under the doorknob, then rattled it as if to make sure it held. “Played me for a fool, didn’t you, sweet thang?”
His cheerful demeanor chilled me to the bone. His kindness had been an act, a ploy to win my confidence, to make me lower my defenses. My betrayal gave him permission to abandon the pretense. I saw it now, how he gloried in his victim status, how he’d claim that my duplicity gave him no choice. What man could tolerate a woman playing him false? None of this was his fault. It was entirely on me.
Keeping my eyes on his steadily advancing figure, I sidled toward the bed where my gun was hidden beneath a pillow. When my legs bumped against the mattress, I lunged for the weapon. Fast as a cobra, Tuck struck. He shoved me down onto the bed, then climbed on top of me,
his knee planted heavily on my stomach. I lashed out wildly at him, clipping his jaw. He backhanded me, and I tasted blood. He grabbed my neck and his strong fingers squeezed.
I bucked and writhed, clawing at his hands, unable to dislodge his weight or loosen his grip. A buzzing sound filled my ears. Spots danced before my eyes. The pressure on my throat grew unbearable, and a sour taste flooded my mouth.
Ripper.
My lips shaped his name.
Please God, I don’t want to die. I want my life with Ripper.
Tuck bent over me, his eyes gleaming with triumphant menace. “It’s your day of reckoning, baby girl.”
FORTY-THREE
Kyle
“I thought Ripper said that Bear cleaned out the stalls after he moved the horses,” Levi whispered. “How come they’re not back in the stables?”
We’d taken up position on the hill overlooking the stables, ready to jump into action when Ripper gave the signal. Fifteen minutes had passed since Bear led the last horse to the corral.
“I don’t know.” I scanned the grounds, searching in vain for any sign of the men. “Something changed, and we have to get eyes on them. Come on.” I gestured for Levi to follow me. We skirted the hilltops surrounding the barns and buildings, dropping to the ground when we spied the men inside an open garage that held three tractors.
Bear crawled out from under a small tractor, clutching something long and narrow to his side, something that glinted when he turned away from his guards. Ripper pointed outside. Dwight and Darryl pivoted to look, and Bear rushed them.
“Let’s go.” I jumped to my feet and sprinted toward the melee, Levi hard on my heels. We abandoned the Tavor on the hilltop, but carried Grandpa Kurt’s two Glocks and extra ammo. The pouch around Levi’s waist held a couple of fragmentation grenades.
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