It made her wonder what was underneath.
Her mind quickly processed all of the available clues. He’d just saved her. So, maybe he wasn’t planning on rape and murder? At least not yet.
His eyes narrowed. “Who is Adam?”
“He’s the asshole who’s about to blow your head off,” a steely voice announced from the entrance to the bathroom. “Now let her go and step away.”
Rachel’s head whipped around and her jaw dropped. Adam stood there, feet planted in a wide stance, body rigid, shoulders pushed back. A stone-cold killer, all business, a gun in each hand. Both aimed at this stranger who’d come to her rescue, but whose motives were unclear.
It was very comforting.
The tough-looking blond guy pulled a handgun out of nowhere and aimed it at Adam’s chest. He let go of her, so she staggered back. Her heart hammered furiously as she tried to figure out what to do next. They all stood silent for a beat, the two men evaluating each other with hard, unflinching stares.
“What are you?” the blond guy asked Adam. “A cop or something?”
“A Marine. What are you? Prison bait?”
Rachel’s eyes darted back to the stranger. She examined him closer. Adam was right. There was a small swastika tattooed on the side of the guy’s neck. She’d watched a TV documentary once on prisons and remembered a swastika on the neck signified membership in an Aryan gang. You had to belong to a gang in prison. If not, you’d be killed.
“Are you two the only ones here? Are there more survivors with you?” he asked Adam.
Adam inched inside the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. He ignored the stranger’s questions. His eyes collided with hers. “You all right?”
“How many of you are there?” the man asked impatiently.
“I’m fine,” she told Adam and lifted her chin toward her savior. “He didn’t hurt me. He tried to help.”
“Why were you screaming?”
“How many of you are there?” the man shouted. She cut him a glance. He looked tired, worn out, like he’d been down ten miles of bad road.
Well, hadn’t they all?
“Come on, guys,” Rachel said, trying for diplomacy. After all, this man was the first survivor they’d seen and actually had a chance to speak to. He wasn’t exactly the type of person they’d been hoping to find, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they? He had helped her. That had to count for something. “This isn’t an action movie. Put down the guns. Let’s talk.”
Right then, the bathroom door banged open, missing Adam by a millimeter. Another tall stranger, this one with short dark hair and pale skin, pointed an even bigger gun at Adam’s chest. Her stomach dropped to her knees. The new guy looked normal, like he’d stepped out of the pages of her old life. Except none of the men in her old life pointed guns at each other. “Put your weapon down,” he boomed.
God, could this get any worse?
The dark-haired stranger looked at her and sucked in a breath. “A woman?” he breathed.
Oh shit. Yes, it could.
Since the guy was momentarily distracted, Adam took the opportunity to lunge forward and elbow him in the face. Blood splattered and his dark eyes rolled into the back of his head. The guy fell to the floor like an imploding skyscraper.
The blond guy let out a sigh of defeat and lowered his gun. “Fuck, dude,” he said to Adam, “you probably broke his nose. That’s gonna be a bitch to heal with no doctors around.” He reached up and tugged his fingers through his sun-kissed hair.
Adam still looked pissed as hell and kept both his guns trained on the blond guy’s chest. “Why were you screaming?” he asked her again.
“I stepped on a corpse…it was falling on me.”
“What? I checked this floor—”
“Look, can we move this along?” the blond guy interrupted, his voice dripping with irritation. “He and I were traveling together and we came here to do some research. I was walking down the hall and I heard a female scream, so I ran to help. She’s right. She’d stepped on a corpse in a bathroom stall, very advanced decomposition. I managed to pull her out before it could fall on top of her. End of story. Now, how many of you are there?”
Adam lowered his weapons. “There’s just the two of us.”
“Fuck. Have you seen anyone else since the end?”
“Yes, we saw a group of about twenty assholes a week ago, who looked a lot like you, down in Oxnard. They killed a man and were about to gang rape a woman before she committed suicide.”
“That’s it? No one else? No other women? No towns of people? Just one group of killers?”
“Yes.”
“Where have you looked?”
“All over California.”
“Fuck,” the guy yelled. He spun around and slammed a fist into the nearest bathroom stall. “Goddamn fucking shit.” He continued cursing and pounding his fists into the metal door.
“Rachel, come here,” Adam ordered.
He didn’t have to ask her twice.
She ran over and Adam hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her to his side. She sighed and automatically wrapped her arms around his waist.
The blond guy stopped his tirade. His eyes narrowed as he watched their embrace and took in Adam’s stamp of possession. His chest rose and fell. Sweat trailed down the side of his face. He looked like a cross between a blond Greek god and a badass biker dude. A multitude of colored, flaming tats ran up both his thickly muscled arms, disappearing behind the short sleeves of his white shirt. He stared at her with laser intensity.
Uh oh.
He lifted his chin at Adam. “She’s the only woman any of us have seen alive since the end.”
“And she’s mine,” Adam said, his words hard as stone, his meaning crystal clear.
The man took a step forward. “You met her first, got first dibs. I get that. But—” he paused for a moment, “—maybe she’s yours because she doesn’t know any better.” His blue eyes locked with hers. “Angel,” he said, smiling, a slow, easy smile she suspected worked brilliantly for him when it came to luring women into his bed, “if it does turn out that you’re the last woman alive, or one of the few left, you’re going to have a lot of choice in this new life. There’s going to be lots of men wanting you, wishing you were their woman, offering to be your man. Think of how much choice you’ll have, darling. And while you’re thinkin’ on that, think on if you’re sure he’s giving you everything you need. You sure you don’t want to give a man like me a chance to prove I can do better? Because, angel, I’m sure I can.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. Did he really just make a move on her like that in front of Adam? Sure he was blindingly handsome, but come on, she had Adam. The area between her legs still ached in the best way possible, every movement she made reminding her of last night, of Adam’s cock pounding into her, leaving her breathless and quaking for more. And this guy thought he could talk her into leaving?
Was he high?
Adam curled his fingers around the back of her neck. He answered for her. “Last night, she was screaming my name while I fucked her tight pussy. So, yeah, I’d say she’s got everything she needs.”
She gasped, heat flaming across her cheeks.
He did not just say that.
She looked up at Adam. His expression was hard, unyielding and completely unrepentant. “You did not just say that.”
“You bet your sweet ass I did.” He smiled down at her.
A part of her was actually happy to hear this pronouncement. Happy to see this reaction from him. She’d always wondered what he’d do when they met other men, and now she knew.
Mine, he’d said, and he’d meant it.
Adam cupped her ass and dragged her in close. Boneless, she melted into him. Not even caring that he’d just humiliated her a moment ago. Goosebumps ran up her spine
. Warmth pooled between her legs.
Adam locked eyes with the new guy. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Thirty minutes later, the three men had managed to sort out their differences enough to handle standing next to each other without reaching for a gun. All four of them now stood in the university parking lot, in front of the biggest damn tour bus Rachel had ever seen.
“What the hell is that?” Adam groused.
The blond guy, whom Rachel had learned was named Trevor Mason—a surprisingly tame moniker for a man with a swastika on his neck and flaming tats shooting up both arms—hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets, puffed out his chest and smiled vividly. “That is Nickeltop’s tour bus.”
“Who?” Rachel asked out of the corner of her mouth to Adam. He shrugged.
“What rock were you two living under? Even I know who Nickeltop was. I saw them perform at the mid-state fair,” Christian said from behind her.
Christian—the tall guy Adam had elbowed in the face—had woken up and introduced himself as Christian Torosian, former head biologist for the California Department of Fish and Game. Now that he wasn’t pointing a gun at Adam’s chest, Christian seemed like a normal guy. He wore jeans, a striped golf shirt and tennis shoes. And he was hot. Not as outright sexy, jaw-droppingly gorgeous and edgy-dangerous as Adam and Trevor in their kickass boots and jeans. Christian was good looking in more of an I’m-smart-and-in-charge kind of way. Which was good too. Very good.
She glanced at all three men, still amazed to have been left alive with these three perfect specimens of masculinity. How did this happen? Apparently, in this new world there would be no potbellies, no receding hairlines and no man boobs. No, not here. It was like they’d been outlawed.
“What the fuck?” Trevor shook his head and interrupted her reverie. “Never heard of Nickeltop? That’s a crying shame.”
“Well, they must have been big,” Rachel told him, trying her best to help the four of them settle into a tentative friendship. “Because that bus is totally cool.”
The tour bus was black everywhere. Unrelenting. No markings, paintings or signs—nothing to stop the flow. Matte on the bottom, with glossy dark windows rimming the top. Both dangerous and elegant, it looked ready for its close up at a Batman movie premiere.
“This tour bus is the ultimate in comfort,” Trevor told them, as if he were narrating a program on the Travel Channel. “It has its own solar panels, batteries and generator, so there’s plenty of power. It’s a bitch to fill up with diesel, but once you do, it’ll go forever. There’s a lounge area, kitchen and two bathrooms. And a master bedroom and three bunk beds down the hall with their own TVs. Come inside, you’ve got to see this. Everything’s top of the line. It’s like a penthouse on wheels.”
Adam and Rachel locked eyes. A penthouse on wheels?
“Well, let’s go in, I want to see this,” Rachel urged Adam, walking forward.
“She could have been with me this whole time living in luxury,” Trevor muttered as he passed by Adam. “I can’t believe you were dragging that girl around in that crappy-ass SUV, making her sleep in tents.”
Adam glared at him. “Shut your hole or I’ll shut it for you,” he replied in his scary-as-hell soldier voice.
“Just sayin’, dude.” Trevor shrugged, palms up. “Just sayin’.”
Rachel shook her head, ignored their posturing and eagerly went up the narrow steps, past the cockpit to look down the center aisle of the bus. Her jaw dropped and her breath caught in her throat. She halted, overwhelmed with shock and awe. Adam crowded behind her, pressing against her back.
Chocolate leather couches and chairs, gleaming dark wood cabinets and a state-of-the-art kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances ran in a line down one side of the bus. Guitars were mounted on each of the walls. All of them signed with scrawling signatures. It was spacious but cozy, an elegant yet edgy rock and roll mancave.
Unbelievable. It even smelled expensive.
“Watch this.” Trevor grinned. He hit a button and the walls and floors vibrated as the bus started to move. She gasped and stepped back. Adam wrapped an arm across her chest, held her tightly against him and braced a hand overhead.
“It’s got three slide-outs that double the square footage of the bus,” Christian shouted from the small kitchen. He’d already cleaned the blood off his face and pulled a blue ice pack out of the fridge to press against his hawk-like nose.
Trevor walked over and picked up a remote. “There are ten TVs on the bus, but this one is my favorite.” Her eyes were immediately drawn to a ginormous, paper-thin black rectangle recessed into the wall in the living area.
“Oh, my,” she whispered.
“We like to watch movies in here on Blu-ray HD, with surround sound.” Trevor flipped it on. Images flashed across the screen with such startling clarity, such intensity it seemed to burn her retinas.
Tears formed in her eyes.
“Die Hard.” She gasped. It was one of her favorites.
Her knees weakened as the action movie leapt across the screen and glorious pictures of her old world assaulted her senses. Rachel bit her lip and dug her fingers into Adam’s forearm. She turned her head, trying to look up at him. “I want to travel with them,” she said.
His chest rumbled against her back as he growled. “We need to talk.” Without warning, he whipped her around. Iron fingers wrapped around her upper arm and jerked her back toward the front of the bus.
“Wait,” she squeaked, her feet flying to catch up. What was he doing? One moment they were standing together calmly talking, watching a movie. And the next he was angry? What the hell?
Adam dragged her down the steps and they ended up outside on the asphalt, air bursting in and out of her chest. She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Are you crazy? What was that all about?”
He got right in her face. “That was me looking out for your safety, since you don’t seem to give one shit about whether you live or die. But fuck, Rachel, I do. Even if you don’t, I do.”
That stopped her short, but she still burned with embarrassment over how he’d hauled her out of there like a teenager at an underage drinking party. She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so mad? What did I do now?”
“Can’t you see what’s in front of your eyes? Trevor is a fucking ex-con. He’s a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.”
“That’s why you dragged me down here? To warn me about Trevor? News flash. I’m not an idiot. I’d already figured that out myself.”
His face hardened. “You said you wanted to go with them.”
“Yes, of course I want to go with them. Did you see that bus? It’s like Disneyland for adults. Who wouldn’t want to travel with those guys?”
“Rachel, that asshole is luring you in like a predator. You’re the only woman any of us have seen alive in weeks. Why do you think he insisted you see their bus? And why did you fucking let him talk you into it? He wants you for himself. Christian checks out. He was a biologist, married with kids. Normal. He’s mourning the loss of his family. I trust him, but the other one is a motherfucking asshole ex-con. Who knows what he’s willing to do to get you for himself.”
She softened her voice. “Adam, I know what’s going on. Right now I’m just a bright, shiny toy. We’ll eventually run into other women and I’ll lose my new-car smell. You’re the one who wanted to find other survivors—” she threw her hand out, “—well, here they are. We can’t dump them like trash. We’ve got to give them a chance. Both of them, even Trevor. He’s been decent so far.”
Adam raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I mean, he hasn’t said or done anything too outrageous.”
A deep sound rumbled in Adam’s chest.
“Really, he hasn’t.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Listen, if Christian was able to put up with him, we can too.”
“Or he’s just biding his time before he kills us all in our sleep,” Adam muttered.
Her lips twitched. “We’ve got to give him a chance, Adam.”
“I don’t need to give that motherfucker a goddamn thing. And why are you so damn trusting?”
“When there’s only a few dozen people alive in the whole state of California, each life becomes precious. We’ve got to try and make it work. Besides, did you not see the bus? Hello? That’s worth the price of admission right there,” she joked.
He didn’t say a word, his normally sparkling brown eyes flat and silent.
“What’s wrong? It’s the bus, isn’t it? You hate the bus? You hate Nickeltop?”
Suddenly, her back was against the metal siding. Tall, hard man on her front. She was starting to see a pattern here. Apparently, her future included time spent with her back against a wall and his lips on her mouth.
Not that that was bad.
“Only a fool would hate that bus,” he murmured against her lips, his hands on her waist. “But what I hate is the idea of another man looking at you, fucking you in his head, thinking he calls the shots. Only I do that. You’re mine,” he said. “I decide when you’re touched, who touches you, and how.”
A thrill raced along her skin and her stomach pitched. Was this the same man who a mere five days ago had declared he’d never touch her? She smiled and reached up and put her arms around his neck, loving the feel of him against her. Adam was her barrier, her Great Wall of China keeping all the horror at bay. God, she was lucky to have him. “The only way I’m traveling on that bus is if you’re with me.”
“You know this is going to get complicated, right? Three men and one woman? We don’t have to travel with them. We can leave right now. Just the two of us.”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “Survivors need to stick together.”
He cupped her cheek, those dark eyes searching her face. “I told you I want to share you, watch other men fuck you, but in this situation no one is going to touch you unless I want them to. I’ll make sure of it.”
Die for You Page 12