Starting Point (Doomsday Preppers)

by Elle Aycart

  “Just not forks,” she said, smiling.

  “Do you want me to ask around for one? Most folks in NoName carry a Swiss Army knife. You can cut, debone, and eat with it, all in one.”

  She shook her head but asked, “Are you carrying one?”

  “Sure, but I’m not letting you loose with it,” he said, laughing.

  The scowl she gave him wasn’t serious. Then she was off in another direction. “Look, that’s the pandemic lady!” She signaled with her chin at Carol, who had intercepted Heather, who had just arrived. “Oh, and Heather.”

  Heather said something to Carol and approached them. “How are you doing, son? Catch any fish, or was Marc again the star of the show?”

  Alec laughed. “Marc is always the star of the show when it comes to fishing.”

  “True. And he can cook. I still remember those fantastic-smelling snacks he battered and fried. The crunch was glorious. So juicy. And the taste—”

  “Like lobster?” offered a grimacing Megan.

  Heather nodded. “He should never have told me what they were. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to Marc.” She narrowed her eyes on Megan. “You’re the girl who rented Fergus’s cabin, aren’t you? How is it going? Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Very much.”

  “Do you want me to get you some food?” Alec offered.

  His foster mother refused. “Carol is already waiting in line for me. See you later.”

  Megan waved and then turned to Alec. “You didn’t tell her about the, uh, incident?”

  “Nah,” he said, winking. “I work on a need-to-know basis, boss.”

  She giggled. God, what that laugh did to him and his long-suffering dick.

  “Is Heather a member of the pandemic squad?” she asked, chewing on another piece of fish. By now it had cooled, and she was picking it up herself. Damn it.

  “Not exactly. She believes we need to be prepared for a natural disaster. Maybe it’ll be the supervolcano erupting in Yellowstone, or maybe it’ll be a tsunami—she can’t seem to make up her mind. But she lived with Fergus for so many years that his paranoia rubbed off on her, and she’s big on conspiracy theories, too. That’s why she gets along with Carol.”

  At Megan’s quizzical frown, he explained, “Carol doesn’t just believe we’re one flu away from extinction. She thinks all contagious illnesses have been genetically engineered by the government. Ours in some cases, foreign governments in others. It depends on the political climate. Heather believes in government cover-ups too. That’s part of why they’re good friends.”

  Carol was a very sweet lady, if a bit obsessive-compulsive with the disinfectant. Maybe that was to be expected. In her younger days, she had been held at gunpoint at work—and had gotten the gunman’s brains splattered all over her by a police sniper.

  Megan took another bite of fish, looking contemplative. “What do you believe?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a soldier. I believe in being prepared no matter what.”

  “Hi!” Shayna interrupted. “Megan, right?”

  Megan smiled carefully, mouth full.

  “Sorry about earlier. I know I was a bit harsh, but it was because I was in charge of the drill. I was doing what Alec said he expected of me.”

  Both women looked at him. Megan’s eyes were round. “You knew?”

  He held up his hands. “Nope. I put Shayna in charge of organizing one emergency drill this month, but I had no idea she’d call it today.”

  That seemed to appease Megan. Or maybe she was distracted by the plastic spoon on Shayna’s plate. “Where did you get that?”

  Shayna followed Megan’s intent gaze. “You mean the spoon? I brought tea and sugar and spoons for the potluck. Why?”

  Megan scowled at Alec accusingly. He pretended to deflect her glare. “Sorry! Not a big fan of tea when there’s beer available. I didn’t go anywhere near that table.” Which, in his defense, was totally true—never mind how much he enjoyed feeding her.

  “That spoon would have come in so handy fifteen minutes ago,” she muttered.

  Shayna took a Swiss Army knife from her pocket. “Never leave home without it.” Her voice rose as she added, “And here comes the man of the hour!” She pointed at Ty, who was strolling across the gathering.

  Alec groaned internally; those two were always at odds.

  Ty smiled coolly. “I heard you were the head honcho today.” He offered a hand to Alec and nodded at Megan.

  “And you skipped the drill. Again. Didn’t you read the message in the WhatsApp group about attendance at the ice fishing event, and in full gear, being mandatory?”

  “I barely glanced at it, but it didn’t say there’d be a drill.”

  “Of course not, you genius. It was a surprise drill.”

  “I do have a life, Bird Girl. Meaning I had a date. She’s quite into me; I couldn’t bail on her. She says I’m her dream man.”

  “Please.” Shayna leaned toward Megan. “Men always think women’s dream is to find the perfect man, when in reality is to be able to eat anything we want without getting fat.” Megan snickered and Shayna turned her attention to Ty once more. “Yo, Boy Wonder. I’m gonna find a way to force you to read the messages and comply with them, and I guarantee you won’t like it. Understand?”

  A curse from nearby interrupted whatever Ty was going to reply, which would have done nothing but escalate the whole situation. “Who has a black tea bag?” someone yelled.

  “Coming!” Shayna shouted back and dashed toward the cursing.

  “What happened?” Megan asked as she watched Shayna inspecting Monroe’s hand.

  “Monroe burned himself,” Ty explained.

  “And that caused a sudden craving for black tea?”

  “If you steep a tea bag in water and then put it on a burn, it calms the skin right away and the burn heals faster. Black tea works best, but any plain tea will do the trick.”

  Megan laughed. “This whole day has been… I don’t even have a word for it. Granted, I’ve been all but a recluse for the last ten years, so I don’t have much to compare it to, but even I can see you people are a bit off your rocker. It’s so much fun.”

  “Just a bit?” Ty asked, snorting, then turned to Alec. “She’s been here a whole day and hasn’t run away yet? She’s a total keeper.” Ty patted him on the shoulder and moved toward the beer table.

  “Bird Girl?” Megan asked.

  “Long story, boss. Her dad got into training birds. Some specimens learned more successfully than others.”

  “I see.” She smiled and looked at the crowd spread before them, camouflaged, loud, and rowdy and getting drunk by the second after an emergency drill. Thank fucking God preppers didn’t weird her out, because this was a big part of who and what Alec was.

  “Are you really having fun?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe, Bonehead. I haven’t had this much fun in I don’t remember when.”

  “I’m glad. Once they run out of beer, they’ll break out the hard liquor and start dancing and singing. Still in camo.” She giggled. “The music, I’m afraid, won’t be from this century. More than one reveler will trip in the dark and end up on his ass. Still good with it?”

  She was now openly laughing. “Shayna should run her drill now. Four minutes and forty-six seconds my ass.”

  She was so right. Why didn’t they call more drills when people were drunk?

  “Come on, let’s get some more fish,” Megan urged, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him to his feet.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he grumbled, secretly damned pleased by her reaction.

  As they waited in line at a grill, Marc waved from a cluster of people around one of the bonfires. “You okay here?” Megan asked. Alec assented—reluctantly—and she walked off to join his crew.

  He was still standing there, dying to join her, when he felt a poke in the back. “I have a bone to pick with you, mister.”

  Sean. What had he done now? Oh, right
. “Did we get sued by those assholes?” That would be fast work, not that he gave a flying flip about it.

  “Actually no,” Sean answered. “The assholes liked you—can you believe it? You’re stealing my clients, man. The guy I talked to called you ‘a real leader.’ They want you for their next hunting trip. Offered to pay double.”

  Fuck, no. Not in a million years.

  At Alec’s growl, Sean laughed. “I take it that’s a no?”

  Without moving his eyes from Megan, Alec nodded. “You keep your damn clients.” Sean followed Alec’s gaze. “What are you looking at? Oh, my mistake. Not what, who. Who’s the woman? You’ve been staring at her all the time I’ve been talking to you. You’re looking mighty pissed. You jealous she’s talking to Marc?”

  Yes. Not that he’d admit to it, even under torture.

  When he was nothing more than an angry thug, he’d been head over ass in love with her. Her presence had created an inexplicable feeling in his chest, as if it were about to explode from happiness. He’d felt it just sitting by her side, talking to her, listening to music, their hands barely touching. She made him content. Whole. The restlessness he’d always had inside, that feeling of constant inadequacy, disappeared when she was around. So did the cold prickles down his neck. He could relax and be himself. She’d tamed the beast—with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Those sandwiches weren’t just food; they were filled with care and time and silent acceptance, something that up until then no one had given him.

  But he’d lost her. He’d grown up, dated, and yet he’d never again gotten close to that feeling. He rationalized it: it had been first love. His infatuated teenage mind had amplified all those feelings. He’d idealized the whole experience; it hadn’t been that special.

  Until Megan came back. She wasn’t a big-eyed innocent girl anymore, but her effect on him was the same—she made him happy. Whole. She accepted him the way he was. He could relax around her, totally relax and breathe easy, something he couldn’t do with anybody else.

  “Let’s go before you bore a hole in Marc with your laser stare,” Sean said, taking Alec out of his reverie. Luckily, it was their turn at the grill, so they got their fish and walked towards his crew.

  Megan welcomed him with a big smile and took the plate he handed her. “They’re telling me about the biathlon happening in a few weeks.” Chatty, his men. One normally couldn’t get three words out of them, but look at them now. “Before I met you guys, I thought preppers were wackos hiding in reinforced bunkers, eating Doritos and chatting on the internet about the end of the world.”

  His men laughed. Literally laughed. He couldn’t believe it.

  “Megan, Sean. Sean, Megan,” Alec said by way of introductions. Giving his men the evil eye, he placed his arm over Megan’s shoulders and brought her to him. His men smirked, but she went willingly.

  Sean nodded, seemingly not recognizing her. Megan did, though. She narrowed her eyes at him, then said, “Sean? That Sean?”

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Not personally,” she told the punk. “You used to follow Alec and spy on us. Summertime? Eighteen years ago? Ring a bell?”

  Sean opened his eyes wide. “Shit. You were that girl on the lake?”

  And there went Sean too, talking and laughing with Alec’s woman. Alec scowled and dug into his food. Maybe he shouldn’t have switched from beer to water so early. This was going to be difficult to bear sober.

  They ate and drank, but no matter how much the other guys engaged Megan, she didn’t leave his side. After a while, she yawned.

  “Let’s go?” he whispered in her ear.

  The second she nodded, he took care of the farewells as quickly as possible, and, guiding her by the small of her back, he almost shoved her to his truck.

  She smiled the whole ride back, reminiscing and giggling about the highlights of the day. “I had a great time, Bonehead,” she said when they reached the cabin.

  He shifted into park and gripped the wheel, his knuckles white. “I want to come inside.”

  “You want to come inside, or you want to come inside?” she asked, her tone full of mischief.

  He laughed softly, placing his forehead on the wheel. “Honestly? Both.” He turned his head to look at her. “I missed something last night. I want those gorgeous eyes of yours staring into mine while I fuck you.” His voice sounded gravelly, needy, even to himself.

  Her sexy smirk killed him. “What makes you think you’d be the one doing the fucking? I’m afraid your wrists can’t take it, either,” she said, grabbing one and exposing the inner side, where angry red marks marred his skin.

  “I know, but I’m even ready to go with these.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs from under the seat.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “I have my sources.” Hopefully no one would notice the cuffs were missing before he could return them to the bunker. He’d never live that one down. “I’d rather have the use of my hands, but if you insist, I’m ready.”

  She stared at him for a long, long moment, assessing him.

  “You can trust me,” he said quietly. “I give you my word.”

  Chapter 7

  It might have lasted a couple of seconds, but to Alec the wait felt like an eternity.

  Without saying a word, Megan got out of the truck and walked to the front door of the cabin. Alec’s stomach plummeted to the floor. She didn’t trust him.

  She opened the door.

  Then she turned and crooked her finger at him, an intoxicating grin on her gorgeous face. Thank fucking God.

  The highly lethal soldier—stealth personified, able to cross enemy lines without a sound and drop an entire platoon of hostiles before they realized what was going on—tripped over his own two feet and nearly fell to the ground while getting out of the truck. Jesus, what a spectacle. But he didn’t give a shit. Megan was waiting for him.

  When he reached her, she was stripping off the camo onesie. “I don’t care much about fashion, but this is probably a huge no-no all over the civilized world.”

  He followed suit. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  “About getting rid of camo?”

  Wiseass. Free of the outfit, he walked to her. Cupping her face, he kissed her deep and hard, as he’d been dying to do since the morning, hoping to convey all that he felt for her.

  She responded with the same passion—but held his hands, as if afraid they would start roaming. Which they wanted to, but he’d made a promise, and damned if he wasn’t going to keep it.

  About his intensity, there was not much he could do though, and she must have sensed it, because the second he broke the kiss and unzipped his pants, his gaze never leaving hers, she retreated. In her haste, she walked backward into the bed and lost her balance, bouncing onto the matrass. Done with his pants, he stalked towards her. “I’m not comfortable with—”

  He stopped close. “With your lovers not being tied up?” He finished the sentence for her, tipping her head up with a finger under her chin. He must have looked intimidating, all but looming over her, his cock tenting his boxers and twitching. Her expression was almost fearful, and that killed him.

  “Is this better?” He sank to his knees in front of her, his hands on her thighs, ready to part her legs. “Standard-issue sex slave fantasy: me on my knees, eating you out, giving you orgasm after orgasm while you yank my hair and belittle me.”

  “Pfft. Even on your knees, you’re imposing.” Her voice was but a frail thread.

  Maybe it wasn’t the best moment, but he had to get this out of the way. “I won’t caress you. I already promised you that. But I need to hold you in place to fuck you. Is it okay?”

  He waited, painfully aware she might kick him out. Or order him to fetch the cuffs.

  Finally she nodded, her eyes glittering with something other than fear. It was lust this time. She wanted him.

  Alec got rid of her pants and underwear while she took off her thick sweate
r. The camisole underneath, she kept.

  He glanced at it. Removing it would push her too far. That was a fight for another time. Besides, Megan was slowly parting her legs for him. Her sweet smell filled his nostrils, and he lost his train of thought. “You’re already wet, boss.”

  She nodded, leaning back on her elbows, looking down her body at him through hooded eyes. “It’s something only you can do. You speak and I get wet. I’ve been with you the whole day, and you’ve been talking and touching and kissing me all that time.”

  “Good, because you need to be drenched to take me the way I want you to.”

  She jerked at his words, more liquid heat rushing down her already glistening folds.

  “Fuck. You’re killing me, boss.” He was enthralled, looking at her pink pussy, dripping and swollen, totally open for him. He touched the tip of his tongue to her core, and she moaned, throwing her head back. God, such a sexy neck.

  Alec regretted not being able to watch her yesterday. On the other hand, it might have been for the best. He’d been so tightly wired, he would have come on the spot.

  “More,” she said, cupping the top of his head, but she didn’t yank his hair; she softly stroked it.

  “Happily.”

  Keeping her legs open with his elbows, he parted her already puffed-up folds and lapped at her juices. When she was moaning and begging, he caressed her engorged clit. She screamed in pleasure, falling back on the bed as he worked her relentlessly.

  He pulled at her legs and brought her closer. “You like that, baby? Let me make it better,” he whispered, sliding the tips of two fingers inside her, slowly making his way deeper. He ate her out again, raking his teeth over her sensitive folds and sucking her clit until she tensed and arched her back.

  “Oh God, I’m coming,” she let out through clenched teeth. She pressed his head against her, seeking friction, her inner muscles clamping around his fingers.

  He had no problem intensifying his ministrations, deepening his touch, and far too soon she exploded on him, sweetly coming in his mouth. He reached down and squeezed his balls, hoping against hope he could stop himself from coming. He barely managed it.