by Stasia Black
He’d done it for eight and a half years and by God, he’d do it for another eight, and then another eight, and another, until Sophia was a wrinkled old woman in her bed. And even then he’d keep fighting.
He’d give her his last dying breath if it meant she’d live even another second in peace.
It also meant he could never, ever tell anyone the name of the man who’d rescued him that day from the van heading to Leavenworth. The man who’d in effect saved his daughter’s life because eventually, Sophia would have climbed out of that closet if he hadn’t found her and his nightmares were filled with all that might have happened to her if he hadn’t been there.
His best friend had saved her from that fate.
Arnie.
Also known as Arnold Jason Travis.
Chapter Eighteen
DREA
Drea knew Eric wanted to talk to her. Or chastise her or some other shit she didn’t have time for. He’d tried to get her alone every time the caravan had stopped to let the girls out of the armored truck to walk around. And again while they waited for the General to send his soldiers out to bring them to the cave in small groups.
But every time she saw him walking toward her, she’d busy herself with helping one of the girls or talking to Billy about what treatments they’d need once they got to the cave.
One time she just shoved a protein bar in her mouth so that she could only grunt noncommittally to Eric’s barrage of questions: What was she thinking being so reckless? How could she have risked her life like that? Was she trying to get herself killed?
Then luckily one of the girls needed her so she was able to escape the judgement in his brooding green eyes.
She avoided him after that, spending her time with the girls who were understandably retraumatized by everything that had gone down getting out of College Station.
The truth was… Drea had been a little worried herself there for a while.
Okay, that was a lie.
She’d been sure she was going to die.
More than once.
The shit she’d pulled?
But nope, she was not thinking about that. So when she saw Eric heading her way after David Cruz dismissed them for the voting to begin, Drea turned on her heel and started hightailing it back toward their little cavern. It was a little bigger than a walk-in closet, but technically, it was Eric’s walk-in closet, too. Because they were still together.
As much she’d like to pretend that what happened last week between her, Eric, Billy, and Garrett was just the fevered actions of four desperate people who’d just defied death looking for a little comfort… she knew it was more. What that more was, well—
Don’t be sentimental, she chastised herself. You’re all just using each other. And that’s okay. You need them. They need you. That’s enough.
But it did mean she couldn’t just keep avoiding Eric forever, so she took a deep breath and planted her feet.
Okay, they’d have it out. He’d shout. That would make him feel like a big man. Then she’d shout because she was nobody’s push over. Then it’d be done with. Maybe they’d have a hot, angry fuck, and then they could move on.
The footsteps on the smooth floor of the cave behind her grew louder.
“Drea.”
She closed her eyes at the sound of her name on his lips.
He didn’t sound angry like he had yesterday. Still, she didn’t open her eyes even when she felt him walk around in front of her.
It was cool down here in the caves. That was what she told herself anyway as chills ran up and down her arms when he reached out and interwove his fingers with hers.
She didn’t mean to lean into his body. She really didn’t. But it was like there was a magnet attached to her sternum reacting to another magnet inside his chest.
He pulled her in or she sank against him, she wasn’t sure which. All she knew was that the next second she was cemented against his body and his arms were wrapped around her like she was a life jacket and he was drowning.
He just held her like that, silent in the dark hallway with nothing but a few candles burning here and there down the walkway, for what felt like minutes.
After the first minute, Drea wanted to pull away. It was awkward. Okay, she got it. He’d missed her or was glad she was okay or whatever.
But when she moved to pull back his arms only tightened. That was when her throat started getting thick.
Because the first question that popped in her head was: when was the last time someone had held her like this? And then came the answer: never. No one had ever held her this close or this long ever in her whole life. Certainly not her mother. She’d be too busy looking for her next fix. And Dad… Drea swallowed and turned her face into Eric’s shoulder.
It was several more minutes before Eric said anything, and when he did, it was barely a whisper. “You scared the shit out of me, blue eyes. You’re irreplaceable. You know that, right? And I just found you. I can’t lose you.”
Drea squeezed her eyes shut. Damn him. Goddamn him. He wasn’t allowed to slip past all her defenses like this, didn’t he know that?
He was supposed to be an arrogant asshole who had his uses, yes, but not so much that he felt as necessary as oxygen to breathe.
It’s not him who’s the problem. It’s you. You’ll destroy him. You’re poison.
“Hey, we’ve been looking for you two.” Garret’s voice was the splash of water Drea needed to finally be able to pull back from Eric.
Even as she turned to look behind her at Garrett and Billy walking their way, Eric still didn’t let go of her hand. And the warmth of his fingers intertwined with hers? God, it felt good.
Too good.
This was the worst time in the world to allow herself to be distracted.
Her women being held captive by Black Skulls in San Antonio needed her. They were all that mattered anyway. Jesus Christ, what she’d been through was nothing, nothing, compared to their lives being trafficked as sex slaves for the highest bidder.
Of the girls she’d just freed—one girl, Lucy, was so shaken she wouldn’t talk to anyone. Even now, over a week after Drea had rescued them, Lucy just sat down on the ground and clutched her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. Drea didn’t even know how you began to help someone like that.
Those were people who had real problems.
It was time for Drea to get her head back in the damn game.
“They voted,” Billy said, pale face serious. He still had dark circles under his eyes, but they were clear and focused. “We need to talk.”
He nodded his head down the hall, giving a quick glance over his shoulder as more people began to spill out of the main gathering cave.
It was obvious he meant they should talk in private. Drea gave a sharp nod and led the way back to their cavern. They were quiet as they crossed the long steel walkway that bridged an underground creek. Because they were a new clan, they’d been given one of the curtained off cubbyhole caverns instead of being assigned to one of the ‘dorm caverns.’
“All right, what is it?” Eric asked, obviously annoyed at his and Drea’s moment being interrupted. Every step they’d taken away from the intense embrace, though, felt like walking further and further out of a deep fog.
Clarity returned, and with it, Drea’s sense of purpose.
“Who won the vote?” she asked once as soon as Garrett pulled the curtain on their little cavern and lit a small oil lamp.
“Gisela for the women.”
“And the soldiers?”
“Jonathan, the General’s right-hand man.”
“Shit,” Drea swore. “That’ll deadlock the council if they don’t agree with the plan and the original cave settlers vote with them.”
“Which they will,” Garrett said. “Your plan means this place will be crawling with soldiers. We risk blowing their hiding spot big time. No way that’s a risk they take unless they’re forced to.”
Drea swore again.
&n
bsp; “Wait, wait, wait,” Eric said. “What the hell plan were you and the General arguing about in the first place? Just what is it that you want to do?”
Drea looked Eric’s way. “It was actually you who gave me the idea.”
“Me?”
“Remember you told me about your dad one time? Back in Jacob’s Well, during one of our many late night arguments?”
He looked at her sardonically. “You’ll have to refresh my memory. There were so many.”
She smacked him on the shoulder and he grinned impishly. That smile, gah, it did things to her. Which was completely fucking ridiculous! She shook her head and tried to refocus. Her plan. The things that needed doing.
So she took a couple of steps back from Eric to get away from his pheromones or whatever the hell was clouding her head when she was near him and told him the plan.
He stood open-mouthed afterwards. “But it would have been destroyed by the bomb.”
Drea just shook head and explained her plan.
Eric dragged a hand through his hair when she was done. “Jesus. Well. I guess, yeah. If everything’s still there. It might just work.”
“But to even have a chance, we have to get the General on board,” Billy said, pacing and snapping the elastic band he’d taken to wearing around his wrist. “Which is where our idea comes into play.”
“Hey man,” Garrett scoffed, “there’s no our. This plan’s all on you.”
Billy glared Garrett’s way. “You said it was a good idea.”
“I think my exact words were: it’s not the worst fucking plan I’ve ever heard.”
“Just tell us already,” Eric said.
Billy stepped closer to Drea.
She had to ask him to repeat himself because at first she was sure there was no way he could have said what she thought he’d said.
But when he cleared his throat and said it again, it came out just the same: “I think you should invite the General and his Lieutenant Colonel, Jonathan, to be the fourth and fifth in our clan.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eric shouted.
“Just hear me out.” Billy covered the last bit of distance so he was only inches away from Drea again and he lowered his voice. “We need the alliance. You could go present your plan tonight at the Council meeting and maybe he hears you out and considers what you have to say. Maybe not. Either way, we need them on our side. For more than just this mission. We need this.”
“What the hell do you know about anything?” Eric grabbed the front of Billy’s shirt and jerked him away from Drea. “You’re just a fucking drug-addicted ex-doctor. How dare you fucking—”
“Stop it,” Drea shouted, grabbing Eric’s arm before he could punch Billy like it looked like he wanted to. “Just shut up for a second!”
Eric spun on her. “Oh come on. You aren’t really—”
“I said shut up.” Drea threw her hands up, turning away from all of them.
“I’ve been around power before,” Billy said. “And what we have in this clan here is strong.” His eyes flicked around from one to the next. “But it could be stronger. For what we’re going up against. We need every advantage we can get.”
“Family isn’t about tactical advantage,” Eric snapped.
Out of her periphery, Drea saw Billy shaking his head. “Oh come on, don’t be naïve.”
“You think she saved your sorry ass because it was tactically advantageous?”
Billy shrugged. “I am a doctor. That’s a useful thing to have around in a pinch. So sure, it was a good tactical move to marry me.”
Drea felt her mouth drop open. Did Billy really think that was why she’d saved him? And then a more troubling thought followed—was it why she’d saved him?
She pushed it all down to worry about another time and took a long, deep breath. This was the focus she’d been missing. It was why she’d formed the clan in the first place. To help her see when she had blind spots. To give her strength when she was weak.
“Billy’s right,” she said.
Eric spun on her, looking at her like she was crazy. “What?!”
She stood up straighter but Garrett already had her back. “It makes sense,” Garrett said. “Whenever there’s a rival MC whose assets we wanted, it usually made more sense to absorb them than go to war with them.”
Eric threw his hands in the air. “So, what? Any time we stumble on someone you think will help the ‘cause’, we’ll just have to shove more and more beds together? We’ll just take them into our clan and you’ll let them in between your thighs?”
She would have slapped him but Billy and Garrett flanked her and both advanced on him, fury emanating from them so that in the end she reached forward and had to hold them back.
But she did get right up in Eric’s face.
“You’re a hypocrite,” she spat in a low, harsh whisper. “You marry women off to five men like it’s nothing all the time. But now that the shoe’s on the other foot suddenly you’re singing a different tune? How convenient.”
“I’m not— I—” Eric sputtered.
But Drea was already stepping back. “I will be inviting General David Cruz and Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Palmer to join our clan. I will have five husbands just like any other clan bride from Jacob’s Well. We’ll have a marriage just like any other. And our clan name will be Clan fucking Valentine.” She glared from one man to the next, daring them to nay say her.
Then she stomped out of the room, shoving the curtain aside and letting it whip shut behind her.
Chapter Nineteen
JONATHAN
Jonathan loved David Cruz.
But unlike what half of the Elite Brigade thought, Jonathan did not want to fuck him.
Frankly, it would have been easier if he did. It certainly would have made all the overwhelming feelings Jonathan had for the man easier to understand.
Because ever since the day General David Benito Cruz had stumbled over Jonathan bleeding in that Nacogdoches alleyway seven years ago, Jonathan had felt a love bordering at times on obsession for the man.
How could he not?
David was everything Jonathan’s own father wasn’t. Honorable. Loyal. Selfless. Plus he didn’t stink of booze and piss, so there was that too.
The world was like this: There were trash people and there were quality people.
Jonathan’s kin had been trash as many generations back as he knew of. His grandpa was a mean, mean drunk and there was family legend of how his great-grandpa used to steal money from old ladies by calling them on the phone and tricking them into revealing details so he could steal their identities and bank information.
But David’s people? He was second in his family to go to West Point. All of them went to college. It wasn’t just that—they were good too. His mom volunteered for charities before she died from Xterminate. His abuelita had been studying to be a nun before she fell in love with his grandpa and dropped out of nun school to marry him instead.
Quality.
David was only ten years older than Jonathan but he did more than take him under his wing. He all but adopted him. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he took him on as a surrogate little brother. Because Jonathan knew he reminded David of his kid brother, Kevin, who’d died.
Sometimes Jonathan wondered if when David looked at him, he saw Jonathan at all. He’d get this real distant look, and Jonathan wondered if he was pretending it was Kevin he was teaching how to fire a gun, or how to shave, or how to follow all the millions of rules it took to be in the Army.
At first, they weren’t very close at all. David just brought Jonathan back to the Army barracks at Fort Worth to live and train with all the other soldiers. But Jonathan studied for hours till his eyes hurt and spent day after day at target practice until he could outshoot every other cadet. He was smaller than a lot of other guys, but he ran farther, pushed harder, and stayed longer in the weight room, determined to be the best soldier that the General had ever seen.
He wasn’t born quality, but maybe, if he tried very, very hard, he could rise above his trash heritage.
He didn’t make many friends but he didn’t care about that. Half the guys there slacked at everything they did because, hey, the world had ended, so they’d stopped giving a shit.
But General Cruz came by and watched the cadets at their drills. He’d fought a year beside General Goddard on the eastern front and everyone respected him. There were rumors that he was handpicking himself an elite force that would be able to make a real difference to stop the chaos that had become of the world after The Fall. More than anything in the world, Jonathan wanted to be a part of it.
And every time General Cruz came by, he’d stop to chat with Jonathan. How was he doing? he’d ask. Was he fitting in? Finding his footing? Did he need to talk to anyone about all the things he’d been through and seen? Because there were counselors on base.
Jonathan always got embarrassed at those questions. Did the General not think he was tough enough to handle his shit? He always reassured him that he was just fine.
Still, Jonathan worried he wasn’t doing enough. The General seemed interested in his progress and occasionally he’d spend an afternoon one on one helping Jonathan perfect some skill or other. But just a couple afternoons twice a month? It wasn’t enough—even though Jonathan knew how selfish it was to want to capitalize on the General’s valuable time. He was trying to save a whole country and here Jonathan was wanting to bother him with just one dumb kid.
Jonathan had been on base for about two months when he passed by a room full of laptops. Like, full. They were stacked on the floor, on every counter space, in chairs.
At first he was confused. All electronics had been fried by the EMP blasts. But then he paused and tried the doorknob. Because what if some of them had survived it? Maybe if they were in a basement that was deep enough underground or in a building that for some reason had metal walls… okay, so it was a stretch, but somebody obviously thought it was a theory worth testing.
The door was locked but locked doors hadn’t stopped Jonathan since seventh grade when he learned how to pick locks so he could sneak into the teacher’s lounge to steal himself lunch. His dad certainly never packed him any or gave him money.