by Stasia Black
He took Drea’s elbow and started pulling her back toward the stairs of the four-story parking garage that was a block away from the Omni.
Drea jerked out of his grasp. “Okay, we tried it your way. Now it’s my turn.” She strode in front of Eric and started down the stairs.
As she did, she realized this had been her problem all along.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who waited for other people to help her get shit done. No, she blazed ahead and did it herself.
Why the hell had she even come to Fort Worth pandering to that asshole of a President in the first place? She should know—you wanted shit done, you did it yourself.
Well, lesson learned. How much time had she already wasted? She was going back to Nomansland to rescue her people. Today. Fuck everyone else.
“What are you— You don’t even know this city. Have you even been to Fort Worth before?”
She didn’t answer him until they got to the first floor of the garage before turning to face him. “No. But I know how to hot wire one of those.” She pointed to the Harley she’d seen on the way in. In fact, there was a whole bunch of them lined up. She smiled sweetly and tilted her head at Eric. “Now, you don’t mind riding bitch, do you?”
Eric’s face darkened as he glowered at her. “I hate motorcycles,” he muttered. But he did start walking in the direction of one of the Harleys.
She had the thing hot wired in three minutes flat and she handed a helmet to Eric. “Safety first.”
He took the helmet but stared down at the growling motorcycle as she slung her leg over it. “You realize this is most likely a Black Skulls motorcycle.”
Drea just grinned. “Where do you think I learned how to hot wire a hog? 4H?”
Seeing how Eric’s eyes went saucer-wide almost made the whole shitty day worth it. Drea patted the seat behind her.
“Climb on.”
Eric shook his head like he was rethinking his decision to ever come back for her in the first place. But he put the helmet on and climbed on behind her.
And if she noticed how good it felt having his strong arms around her waist? Well, that was just her damn hormones talking.
She turned her head to the side, not looking all the way back at him. “Hold on tight. I’m not gonna take it slow, and if you fall off, it’s your own damn fault.”
Eric’s only response was anxious swearing.
Drea laughed and closed the face visor on her helmet before pulling out of the garage. Having the purr of a big twin engine between her legs felt far better than she’d like to admit. Eric would be in for a surprise when he realized they weren’t heading for Jacob’s Well.
And as she rode south, the morning sun to her left, she thought, aw, this might even be fun.
Chapter Two
ERIC
Eric hated motorcycles. Hated them. He had ever since he was a teenager and his new best friend Arnie had double-dog dared him to steal his dad’s motorbike and take it for a joyride around town.
He hadn’t even made it to the end of the street before the bike tipped over and skidded sideways. He was lucky he hadn’t been going any faster or he would have broken his leg for sure. Still, his leg was ripped up all to hell, almost down to the bone in a couple places. He was out the entire junior season of football.
He hadn’t so much as looked at a damn murder-cycle since then.
And here he was stuck on the back of one clinging to a crazy woman with her hand on the throttle.
“Slow down!” he shouted but with the wind screaming around their ears, she couldn’t hear him. Or maybe she could and she was just ignoring him. Drea was good at that. Damn stubborn woman.
He glanced over her shoulder and saw another curve in the street coming up. “Jesus,” he swore, tightening his arms around her tiny waist. He frowned. She was so small. Was she not getting a large enough share of rations?
She was living at the single female dormitory in Jacob’s Well.
Eric hadn’t wanted her staying there. Only thirteen women lived there, but the truth was it was the closest thing to a brothel Jacob’s Well had.
If a woman was past child-bearing age or decided she’d prefer not to be limited to five men such as the marriage raffle system confined them to—at least in theory, they hadn’t had much problem with infidelity under the new system—she had the option to live in the dorm.
Such women generally shared their favors freely and were thus understandably popular and treated like queens wherever they went, no matter their age or looks. But a woman like Drea?
Eric’s guts twisted just at the thought of the animals that would be mobbing her door if she indicated interest.
But she wouldn’t.
She’s a lesbian, remember?
Thank God for small favors—just because she was so against the whole Marriage Raffle thing—that was all he meant. And her being a lesbian exempted her from the lottery, he’d decided.
He’d never been in the business of forcing things on anyone. The Marriage Raffle system had been devised as the way to make the best out of a bad situation and to keep the peace. How else was he supposed to keep a town, much less a territory, of men in line with such limited access to female companionship? Lord knew it had made savages of the rest of the country. The rest of the world, whatever there was left of it.
But then, he’d never counted on coming across the likes of Drea Valentine, had he?
If only she weren’t so damn stubborn, and opinionated, and—
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted as she took a turn with barely the slightest slow in speed. She leaned and he leaned with her. He didn’t care if squeezing his eyes shut made him a chicken. If he didn’t, he was afraid he’d upchuck his breakfast bagel all over the inside of his helmet.
“Shit!”
He barely heard Drea’s shout above the wind. It was a panicked shout. What could have the badass woman who stood up to world leaders and took out prison guards twice her size sounding so panicked?
Eric’s eyes popped open right as the tires locked and the brakes squealed.
Momentum shoved him forward even tighter against Drea’s body and she held her own, he’d give her that. She kept the bike upright and they were slowing down.
But not fast enough to avoid the line of spikes that had been laid across the road.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Eric yelped as the motorcycle skidded straight into two menacing looking spikes.
Then the world was fuck upside down and— He was airborne and—
Holy—
Jesus, he couldn’t—
SLAM.
Owwwwww was the only thought he managed before the world went black.
“Shit, you think his head got cracked? Y’all both sure went flying. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Eric? Eric.”
That voice. Eric knew that voice.
“Eric, goddamn you, open your eyes right fucking now, or I swear I’ll fucking—”
Drea.
Eric forced his eyes open.
Drea’s face was right in front of him. Close. Really close.
Wow, her eyes were blue. Really, really blue. She probably hated that. She was such a badass, he bet being blonde with blue eyes totally pissed her off.
The thought made him smile.
“Eric? Are you fucking smiling? Shit, do you think he has brain damage?”
“Hey dude, can you track my finger?”
Who was she talking to? It was a man’s voice. Eric moved his head slightly to the right, following Drea’s line of sight and saw a skinny guy dressed in a worn t-shirt and ripped jeans with a bandana on his head.
He was waving his hand in front of Eric’s face but Eric was too busy looking at the beat-up truck idling behind him and Drea. Looked like the guy had managed to stop before hitting the spikes.
Shit, the spikes.
“What happened?” Eric asked, trying to sit up and look around. “FUCK!” he yelled as pain screamed down his left arm.
“Shit, what?” Drea yelled. She put her hands on his stomach, feeling up and down his torso. Jesus that wasn’t helping.
“His arm’s broke,” the guy said. “And I haven’t seen road rash that bad since my Aunt Patty Mae went ass over ankles on her scooter when she was racing my cousin Grady and me. She—”
“It’s definitely broken.” Drea’s voice was cool and matter of fact.
Billy was nodding. “We should set and splint it as soon as we can. But first we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
Eric glanced down at his arm and dammit, it was bent at an angle that was not natural. Not to mention shifting it even slightly send a blinding pain shooting through his whole damn body. “Mother fucking piece of—” he swore before gritting his teeth.
“Does anything else hurt?” Drea interrupted. “Eric?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face when he apparently didn’t respond quickly enough for her. “I said, does anything else hurt?”
He wanted to roll his eyes at her, but every little shift of his body— Ow! Son of a—
“No,” he bit out. Hadn’t she fallen off the bike too? Who’d made her inquisitor in chief. “What about you?”
She just stared at him a moment, a look he couldn’t decipher on her face. “I’m fine. You broke my fall.”
Then she moved back and stood up. “Come on. We need to go. We’re just sitting ducks out in the middle of the road like this. Billy, help me get these damn spikes off the tarmac.”
Eric struggled again to sit up and Drea shot a short, “Don’t move,” at him before joining Billy at the edge of the road to drag the strip of spikes off to the shoulder.
Eric ignored Drea’s snapped command, gritting his teeth against the pain in his left arm as he forced himself up to a sitting position.
“Little busy over here.”
That was when he saw the bodies.
Two of them, blood pooling on the ground beside each.
They were wearing Travis’s colors—black camo that was completely impractical in the Texas landscape and heat. It wasn’t meant to blend in, only to intimidate. That was Travis’s M.O.—make your enemies cower and whimper at your feet. And anyone who didn’t play by Travis’s rules? He just swept them off the board. Total destruction. The post-Fall world was the perfect playground for such an egomaniacal sociopath.
Eric shook his head as he looked from the two dead soldiers back to Drea and the guy—Billy.
Which one of them had taken the soldiers out? Drea couldn’t have had a gun on her. He’d rescued her from prison. She was good but not even she could manufacture a gun from thin air.
That only left Billy. Sure he looked like a happy-go-lucky guy, but anyone who managed to survive The Fall this long and still have access to a truck and a weapon was someone to take seriously.
Eric locked his jaw and forced himself to his feet. Fucking hell, his arm hurt. It was the worst time imaginable to break his damn arm. He briefly glanced skyward. Really? I can’t catch one damn break?
Then he huffed out, walking closer to the truck. He had to clutch his broken arm to his chest like he was an injured bird but you gotta do what you gotta do.
He climbed up into the cab of the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. Okay, so maybe the guy wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. Whatever, all the better for Eric and Drea.
Eric turned the key and the truck’s engine roared to life. Eric didn’t waste any time. Drea and Billy both looked up at the noise but Eric had already jammed the car into gear and was speeding toward them.
Billy jumped backwards to get out of the way but Drea stood motionless. Good girl.
Eric stomped the brakes and jerked the wheel, turning with a screech of tires and bringing the truck to a stop so that the passenger door was right in front of Drea. She didn’t even flinch as the cloud of rocks and dust was kicked up all around her. She just grabbed the door and hopped up on the benchseat beside Eric.
“Drive,” she ordered and Eric was only too happy to oblige.
Problem was, they hadn’t gone more than fifty feet before Drea dropped a hand on his uninjured forearm, shouting, “Stop.”
Eric squinted at the road. Were there more spikes ahead he wasn’t seeing?
“I said, STOP.”
Fine, fine. He put his foot to the brake pedal again, slowing their speed. He wasn’t willing to stop all the way, though. She hadn’t been wrong about the sitting ducks comment. And when those two sentries back there failed to check in? They’d be having company reaaaaaaaal soon.
“We have to go back for him.”
Eric stared at her, not bothering to hide the fact he thoughts she was nuts. “Are you crazy? We don’t know who the hell he is. He could be working for those bastards back there for all we know. A lookout in plain clothes and when you shot—”
“I didn’t shoot them,” Drea said. “He did. To protect me after he saw the spikes take us out. We were in the middle of the road after crashing. You were unconscious and I was freaking out thinking you were dead when those assholes must have come out from the ditch where they were hiding.”
She’d been freaking out thinking he was dead?
“I didn’t even see them. They were almost on top of me when Billy shot them. I only turned around at the gun shots and they were right there. Maybe four feet away.”
Eric blinked, trying to focus in on what she was saying. Wait. She couldn’t mean—
“We have to go back for him,” she said. “He saved my life.”
“Oh come on,” Eric scoffed, shaking his head at her. “I never took you for a bleeding heart. We don’t know anything about him.”
“I don’t leave my debts unpaid.” Her face went hard. “Now turn the damn truck around and go back for him.”
Eric glared out the front windshield, finally bringing the truck to a stop. Was that why she’d been worried he was dead? Because she considered trying to ‘rescue’ her a debt she owed him?
“I barely trust half the men in my own camp and you’re willing to trust this stranger you just met how many minutes ago? For all we know he put the damn spikes there in the first place.”
“Just shut up and—”
“Fine.” Eric slammed the truck in reverse and then hit the gas pedal. She wouldn’t change her mind. She never did, once she got set on something.
The truck jerked into action. Eric locked his eyes on the rearview mirror and navigated around debris and shit in the road that had been much easier to avoid when going forwards.
“Jesus Christ,” Drea swore, her head swinging around to look out the back window. “I don’t mean you have to get us fucking killed.”
Eric ignored her and kept going, only slowing down when he saw Billy standing in the middle of the road where they’d left him. Billy jumped to the side when he saw the truck heading his direction in reverse.
Eric gritted his teeth against a fresh round of pain shooting up his broken arm as he stepped on the brakes yet again and brought the truck to a stop. He reached over with his good arm to roll down the manual window.
“Get in the back of the truck if you’re coming,” he yelled.
“Hey, you stole my truck!” Billy said, walking toward them and pointing at Eric. Then his focus shifted to Drea. “And you never gave me my gun back.”
“Of course I didn’t give you back your gun, do you think I’m an idiot?” Drea leaned across Eric to talk to Billy out the window and Eric blinked. Jesus, didn’t she realize— Her breasts were almost skimming his—
“Now get in the damn truck bed if you don’t want to be left out here to be picked off like road kill.”
Eric was too busy trying to remember how to breathe with Drea so close but when she pulled back and he heard a thunk in the truck bed, he figured Billy had gotten on board with her plan.
She was persuasive like that. And hot. Her body he meant. Not like— He just meant that when she’d leaned over like that, the heat of her body had— Jesus, did he have a fever
or something? He wiped at the sweat on his forehead with his arm.
“Now you.” Drea glared at him when he looked her direction. “Switch seats. The last thing I need is you passing out in the middle of the highway.”
Eric punched the gas before she could unhook her seatbelt. “I got it, thanks.” He held his broken arm against his chest. Fuck it hurt. He’d need to splint it soon. But he was not giving up this little bit of control.
Drea let out a small, exasperated noise. “You’re hurt. What the hell am I supposed to do if you black out while you’re driving?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “I broke my arm. I’m not bleeding out. And let’s not forget what happened the last time you were in charge of the moving vehicle.”
If he thought she’d been exasperated before it was nothing to the offended noise she made at that. “There were spikes in the road. It had nothing to do with my damn driving.”
“Well maybe if you’d been going slower, we would have been able to stop in time.”
“Is that why you’re only going fifty-five miles an hour, Grandpa? There is a war just starting. Might be nice to make it out of the area before reinforcements arrive.”
“Jesus,” he swore, shaking his head as he looked over at her. “I’m trying to conserve gas. Everybody knows you conserve up to twenty percent more gas by going fifty-five rather than seventy-five.”
“Yeah well we won’t be around to enjoy all that gas we’re saving if the bad guys catch up to us because you’re driving like you’ve got a stick up your ass, will we?”
“Fine,” he growled, “you want faster, you’ll get faster.” He pressed harder on the pedal, shaking his head as he looked at the fuel gage that was only slightly above half full.
“Are you happy?” Eric threw his good hand up as he looked around the empty road and barren landscape around them. His left arm screamed in pain at the movement. “Ow, fuck,” he swore under his breath.
Drea looked up from the map she was scouring, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, are you still going on about the damn gas? Jesus Christ, I’ve never met anyone so whiny in my whole damn life.”