Underground (New World Series Book 4)

by Janelle Stalder

  She patted her hand. “You don't have to stay here and take care of me. I'm a big girl. This isn't the first time I've had to deal with these kinds of tribulations.” She laid her head back looking even more tired than she had when Lake first arrived.

  “It was only a matter of time before the war between them and the rebels made its way here,” she continued with a frown.

  “I'm not going anywhere until I know you'll be okay. And that starts with getting you over this cold.”

  “Your friends will worry,” she argued.

  Lake shrugged. “They'll be fine. My main concern now is you.”

  She stayed by her side as her aunt finally drifted off to sleep again. Getting up quietly, Lake wet the cloth again, placing it on her heated brow. Her Aunt looked so tiny and vulnerable in the bed. It worried her more than she liked.

  Her thoughts went to Garrett and Seamus, picturing them waiting for her, thinking the worst. She had two days to make sure her aunt was okay. If it took longer than that, she decided, she'd just have to stay where she was permanently, or bring her Aunt with her. She was her family, and this time family would just have to come first.

  She just hoped the others would understand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It had only been a day, but his body already felt like it was strung out, waiting for the next hit. And the only drug that would satisfy him was Phoenix.

  She had been avoiding Trent since their fight the day before. He should have been used to them fighting, since that seemed like the only thing they were good at when it came to the two of them. That was before. Now he knew how many other things they were good at together, and the memory of that was what was killing him.

  Bastian had everyone working hard, but not hard enough to make Trent forget. Even though he knew what he'd find, he had still gone by her room earlier that night only to find it locked. Pride wouldn't allow him to knock.

  What was he supposed to do, beg for forgiveness? Had he really done something wrong? Sure, he might have been harsh with her, but Phoenix had a tendency to make everything into a joke, and that just wasn't the time. There was too much at stake to be taking it lightly.

  Isn't that what you like about her? His inner voice argued. Trent supposed he did. Where he always felt the need to be the serious, strict one, Phoenix was the complete opposite.

  Part of him did in fact admire that about her - most of the time. It wasn't as if he didn't know that, despite how she acted sometimes, she still understood all that was at stake.

  Shit. Maybe he had fucked up. She’d accused him of basically treating her like some insolent child. That wasn't what he had intended at all.

  Sitting with Pete, Roman, Tyler and Bastian, he tried to focus on their discussion even as all these conflicting thoughts ran through his head.

  Bastian seemed more enthusiastic now that he realized just who he had in his corner. He was most impressed by Roman, who apparently everyone thought had died once he disappeared.

  They stood around the table set up in the gym, going over the best way to get an army into the city. Roman knew all the heavier guarded areas. Of course, that could be different now, especially considering the army was focused on Douglas and his men. It was a good distraction for them, but only if they could get reinforcements in before things changed in the city.

  There was so much to do that Trent needed all his focus. Phoenix was screwing that up. Her clear, blue eyes and pinks lips. Those long legs and trim waist, and how they felt beneath his hands. The way her lips curled up into that mischievous grin that had him wanting to rip every piece of fabric from her body.

  Fuck. He needed to stop obsessing about her. That's exactly what it was turning into. He just needed to push her completely from his mind. Clearly having fun between them wasn't going to work if they were just going to fight all the time. It had been a long shot anyway, he admitted. The two of them had never really gotten along.

  No harm, no foul, he supposed. If only he hadn't had a taste of her though. Now he knew just what he'd be missing, and that was going to be hard to forget.

  “Trent!”

  He blinked, looking up at his brother. Pete was giving him a strange look and he wondered just how long he'd been calling his name.

  “What?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

  The others also looked at him funny so he ignored them, keeping his attention on his brother.

  “I said, are you good to lead a unit if we split up and attack from multiple sides like Roman suggested? I want you coming in from the eastern ghetto since you know the area the best.”

  Trent nodded, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Of course.”

  “This is all hypothetical,” Bastian reminded them. “We don't know how many men we can get to aid us, if any.”

  “It doesn't hurt to plan anyway,” Tyler said.

  “How many men do you have here?” asked Roman.

  Bastian tilted his head from side to side, thinking. “Maybe eighty or so,” he said.

  It wasn't enough. They all knew it too. If they couldn't manage to get a message through to the US army, they were right back to where they’d started.

  A loud laugh rang through the room, grabbing his attention. Phoenix walked in with one of Bastian's men, her head turned toward him as he said something else to make her laugh. Something ugly and foreign erupted in his gut as he watched them approach.

  “Don't be attacking my men now,” Bastian said.

  Trent looked at him to see the man was watching his reaction with a knowing smile.

  He scoffed. “Why would I?”

  His smile only widened.

  “If looks could kill, that lad would already be ash and bone,” Tyler commented.

  Trent heard Pete chuckle just as Phoenix reached them, her hilarious companion walking away to another group of men.

  Trent followed him, his fists clenching against the table. He'd better not look back at her, he thought. Lucky for him, he didn't.

  Not that he would have done anything...Or maybe he would have. A quick lesson on where he should keep his hands and eyes wouldn't be considered attacking, would it?

  Her scent hit him, surrounding his senses like a warm blanket. She started to talk to them all, ignoring him. Not even a quick glance was sent in his direction. So that was how it was going to be, was it?

  Her silent challenge was gladly accepted. He might have considered ignoring her too, but now Trent knew it would be impossible. And damn if she thought she'd be able to either. He was about to make it very clear to her that he wasn't going anywhere - whether she liked it or not.

  If Phoenix could completely remove her libido and tell it to take a hike, she would. It was as if all her inner girlie parts were directly connected to Trent whenever he was close by. Everything perked up, waiting for him to give her the kind of pleasure only he could give.

  It was downright annoying. Especially since she had decided she would no longer share a bed with him. That little experiment was officially deemed a failure, never to be repeated. If there was one thing Phoenix expected, it was respect. And she didn't feel like she had his at all. To him, she was still some silly girl in a man's world. Well he could go fuck himself for all she cared. She wasn't going to feel bad about herself because of some guy. No way in hell.

  She left them to continue their planning and went to find her sister. Missy had found the kitchens and was cooking up a storm of food for Charlotte. The ex-Weapon X had been pretty sick since they'd arrived. Phoenix had always assumed “morning sickness” only applied to mornings, but from what she'd seen of Charlotte, it was more of an all day thing.

  When she walked in, Missy was busy chopping vegetables, throwing them into a big simmering pot as she went. The whole space smelled like their mother's homemade chicken noodle soup.

  “Smells like heaven in here,” she said, walking over to take a whiff from the pot.

  “I can't believe how much food they have here,” Missy said as she conti
nued with her task, throwing Phoenix a quick smile. “I haven't had such good produce in years.”

  “Yeah, I guess this place has some pretty cool benefits.”

  Her sister raised her brows. “I have a stove with electricity. For once I don't have to build a fire just to cook. I'd say that's more than pretty cool.”

  Phoenix shrugged, grabbing a chopped piece of carrot and plopping it in her mouth, crunching loudly.

  “I suppose.”

  Missy stopped, turning to face her with her arms crossed over her chest. “What's wrong with you?”

  She paused for a moment before reaching for another piece of food, avoiding her sister's gaze. “I don't know what you mean.”

  Missy snorted, shaking her head. “You're not fooling me. You look like you did that time Dad took your favourite bike away because you kept riding it through his garden.”

  “I loved that bike,” she murmured, pouting.

  “Uh huh. For days you walked around all grumpy and mopey. Kind of like you're doing now. I'm just trying to figure out which new favourite toy was taken away from you this time.”

  “There's no toy.”

  “You sure about that? Maybe a...I don't know...boy toy that might have you all moody?”

  Phoenix finally looked up at her. “Cut it out,” she said, biting back a smile at seeing the impish grin on her sister's face. Not that she appreciated being teased, but part of her was happy to see her sister smiling and at ease. It had been so long, it was still a surprise to see the changes in her.

  “What's going on with you two anyway?”

  Sighing, Phoenix lifted herself up on the counter, no longer pretending not to know what, or who, they were talking about. “I don't know,” she admitted. “There's an attraction there.”

  “Uh, yeah. I saw it when I walked in on you all but climbing each other,” Missy said with a laugh, ducking from the piece of carrot Phoenix threw at her.

  “Shut up!”

  “So what's the problem?” Missy asked once she finally stopped laughing.

  “We're just too different,” she said, her good humour slipping at the truth. “I never know if I want to smack him or kiss him. It's exhausting.”

  Missy stood beside her and gripped her hand. “You two aren't so different. You're both strong leaders, and you look out for everyone else even before yourselves. You speak your minds and aren't afraid to take on the world. And even though neither of you would admit it, you both love fiercely, which is why you do all that you do. For your friends and family who you love.”

  Phoenix swallowed down the lump in her throat at hearing how her sister saw her.

  “The problem isn't that you are too different, it's that you're so similar and you just can't admit it. I have no doubt you two could love each other just as fiercely, if not even more, than you do everyone else. You have to let yourself.”

  “No one said anything about love,” she managed with a scratchy voice. Stupid clogged emotion, she thought, clearing her throat. “I just want to bang him.”

  Missy didn't look convinced. “If that's it, then just bang him. What's the problem?”

  “The problem is he doesn't respect me. He treats me like a child most of the time, and I hate it.”

  “I don't believe that,” Missy argued, shaking her head. “He might get a bit uptight sometimes, but that's just Trent. If you want him to accept you for you, you need to do the same for him.”

  “And that's where us being too different comes in I guess,” she said sadly.

  Missy turned away, going back to chopping as she said, “Nope, you're wrong again. That's where you being similar comes in. You're both too damn stubborn for your own good.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The wind was stronger up on the roof, muffling all other sounds as it rushed past their ears. Seamus kept his head down as he made his way to the edge where Garrett stood. They both looked down.

  “Quite the drop,” Seamus murmured with a grimace.

  Garrett nodded his agreement.

  “You really think you're going to be able to make that jump?”

  They both stepped back, looking from one roof to the other.

  “I gotta tell ya, mate, if you're not completely sure of this, I wouldn't do it. You miss, you're dead.”

  “I know,” he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It's the only way though. I need to be able to see inside.”

  “I can go up on that roof using the fire escape,” Seamus suggested. “Let me do this and you can stay here. I'll just say I'm patrolling the roof too. I'm sure I'll recognize old man Samson if I see him again.”

  Garrett looked over at him, and seemed to be considering it. He prayed he'd go for it, because he really didn't want to clean up his friend’s remains off the ground should this go wrong.

  “Maybe you have a point,” he finally said, giving in. “What I need is a uniform myself.”

  “What? That's not what I said.”

  He walked away, Seamus trailing after him.

  “No, but it makes more sense.” He turned to him abruptly, Seamus almost crashing into him. “Give me your uniform and wait here. I'll go and meet you back here.”

  Seamus stepped back, shaking his head. “No way, that's not a good idea. The other guys already know me. If I don't come back from here they're going to start to wonder what happened. I'll go. You stay here.”

  Garrett opened his mouth to argue again when they suddenly heard footsteps in the stairwell. Both of them froze, moving quickly to hide against the wall where the door to the roof was. They stood on either side of the opening.

  Pulling out his gun, he slowly clicked off the safety, his ears trying to pick out how close they were through the rushing wind. After a couple of tense minutes, the soldier he'd been assigned with walked through, gun pointing ahead of him.

  Seamus slowly dropped his, stepping forward to draw his attention to him. “You scared the shit out of me, mate,” he said, taking a step back as the man's gun swung in his direction. He instantly relaxed, dropping the barrel.

  “You were taking a while so I came to see if you were o-”

  Garrett slammed the handle of his switchblade into the man's temple, knocking him out. They stood looking down on him.

  “Ask and you shall receive,” Seamus said, slapping Garrett on the shoulder. “You can be the one to undress him.”

  “Ass,” Garrett muttered, getting to work.

  They walked around the Community Center, keeping their strides quick but not obvious. Garrett fidgeted with the NWO vest, cursing under his breath.

  “Stop pulling at it,” Seamus said. “You look like a boy on Sunday, yanking on his church clothes.”

  “If I ever went to church dressed like this, my da would have smacked me upside my head.”

  “Mickey should have smacked the lot of you more anyway.”

  They chuckled as they headed toward the back, two soldiers just doing their rounds. Or so it would appear to anyone watching them. Rounding the side, the fire escape came into view, as did two other soldiers, speaking with their heads close together.

  Garrett and Seamus nodded in greeting, each keeping up an easy outward appearance. Stopping in front of the fire escape, Seamus helped him get the ladder down, all the while praying the other two didn't stop them.

  “What are you two doing?”

  Seamus closed his eyes. Praying never worked, he thought miserably. Unconsciously he fingered the scar on his cheek left by the beating he'd received from Roman, before he'd switched sides. He'd learned then that no matter how you might pray or ask for something, it didn't always happen. Actually, it rarely happened, he decided. More often than not his prayers went unanswered.

  Garrett turned with a smile, his usual friendliness shining through. Out of all of them, it had always been Garrett and Seamus who were the easiest to get along with, the two that could lie and get away with almost anything with only a smile. Seamus had felt lately he'd lost a bit of that, this constan
t war taking its toll on him. But he could still fake it. He could put on a smile and wink and laugh, and everyone would think he was the same old Seamus as usual.

  “We're just heading up to the roof,” Garrett explained.

  “Why?” the same guy asked.

  Seamus turned around too, staying calm. “We got orders to take a look around there.”

  “We'll shout if there's any problems,” Garrett added, turning around to start climbing, effectively ending the conversation. Thankfully they dropped it, moving to head back out front.

  “You must have a horseshoe up your arse,” Seamus said, climbing behind him.

  They made quick work of getting on the roof. Seamus looked back to the other roof and felt another wave of relief that Garrett hadn't gone through with his insane plan. He joined him by the skylight, both of them lying on their bellies so they could discreetly peek over the edge to look down.

  Seamus cursed as he got his first good gaze inside. Douglas' men were dragging bodies to a back room, streaks of blood creating a macabre path. Douglas and his council stood on a stage, speaking as though nothing was wrong with this picture.

  The man was insane, he thought sickly. How had they ever followed him? To think, he'd spent years doing as the General had ordered. It made him want to walk in there and put a bullet through his head.

  He heard Garrett suck in a sharp breath. Seamus looked over at him. “What is it?”

  “I see him,” he said, his voice strained.

  Seamus looked back down but couldn't see what he was seeing.

  “He's hurt,” Garrett said. “I can tell. He's too pale. I need to get in there.”

  “What? That's not possible,” he said instantly. “They're not letting any soldiers inside. You'll get yourself killed.”

  Garrett stood suddenly, Seamus struggling to follow suit as he made his way to the stairs again.

  “Garrett,” he called out, practically running down after him. “You need to think about this clearly. We're supposed to meet up with the others. If you go in there, you might be trapped.”