Smoke Road

by Toby Neal

  Nani got out of bed to dress, her face aflame. He barely waited for her to pull on her nightgown before he scooped her up for more kissing.

  “Please, don’t hold back on my account,” she muttered against his chest when he let her get a breath.

  “Nope, I won’t. I never do,” he grinned, and waggled his brows.

  The window of the log cabin that both crowned and hid the underground complex of the Haven was open and a warm, late afternoon fall breeze drifted through. Standing beside Ana Luciano as they chopped vegetables companionably in the kitchen for dinner, happiness curled through Nani—a smoke of feeling like incense rising.

  She looked out to see Luca striding out behind JT, an axe over his shoulder, his gait smooth as the brothers laughed and Luca smacked JT on the shoulder. The healing of Luca’s leg made her think of the scripture that her mother had always loved: God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, though how good would come from the Scorch Flu remained a mystery.

  The piece of shrapnel she’d removed from Luca’s leg had been the main source of his disability, and while some metal shards remained, the bullet wound had healed and he was almost back to full strength, and better than ever.

  Nani had found the whole day to be so satisfying, beginning with the excitement of their announcement and followed by the routine that had developed as each of the Haven’s inhabitants went about their chores. Nani’s were mainly in the barn; her background growing up on the coffee farm, with their family’s contingent of animals, had given her those skills. She milked the goats, fed the pigs, groomed and cared for the horses, and provided medical care to any injury of animals or the little community living at the Haven. When she wasn’t doing one of those things, Nani was down in the Haven’s fully equipped science lab with Elizabeth, studying the virus and working on the vaccine they all so clearly needed.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Ana’s intelligent hazel eyes met Nani’s as her blade paused on the cutting board.

  “No symptoms so far. Well, my breasts are a little tender. But I feel fine, which is why I didn’t suspect sooner.”

  “I have prayed for this for so long.” Ana resumed her chopping. “Prayed for my boy to let go of his bitterness, to feel the love he’s always attracted from women, but he seemed so hard, so cynical, and I never understood it. When he told me about what he remembered, it all made sense.” She shook her head. “Luca is the only one of my children who is a practicing Catholic. That at least was something we shared.”

  Nani reached in her pocket and took out the makeshift rosary Luca had put together for her. He’d drilled a hole in Mikaela’s beach glass and hung it on the end of a section of beads. Nani set the single strand on the cutting board. “Luca made me this. It’s half of his rosary. I understand that you gave it to him from his grandma. The glass is from my sister who passed away.”

  Ana stared down at it, her expression hidden from Nani. Was she angry that Luca had taken apart his grandmother’s rosary?

  “Do you pray with it?”

  “My mom was Christian, and my dad Buddhist.” Ana looked up at her, the older woman’s eyes, that ever-changing hazel, now reflecting the blue of the sky outside. “I was influenced by each of their philosophies. I had faith.” Ana’s eyebrows raised—not judgment but curiosity. “I lost it...my faith, but Luca has helped me. I have faith in him, in his goodness, and his love. His faith is mine in that way.” Nani cleared my throat. “I don’t pray the rosary, but I like to sit with him while he does. We don’t share the same words, but I think we share the same feeling, a faith that there is something bigger than us and that we are not alone.”

  Ana put down the knife and turned to Nani, taking up her hands. “If our family rosary brings you comfort and connection with my boy, then it is well used.”

  Nani’s eyes burned with tears of joy, to be a part of this warm, loving family, to be pregnant, to be needed, and helpful. She was so lucky. No, blessed.

  Ana’s eyes brimmed with tears too. “And knowing I’ll have a grandbaby makes...”. . . ” She had to swallow away the lump in her throat to continue. “It makes me very happy, very joyful.” Ana smiled up at Nani.

  “I suspect, with all the love at the Haven, our child won’t be the only one,” Nani swiped at the tears on her cheek.

  “You got that right,” Lucy bounced in from outside. Her cheeks were red, her glossy black curls smelled of strawberry shampoo, and she towed Roan into the kitchen by one of his buckskin fringes. “I told this guy he only has so long to make a move before I’m going after one of the guys from town.”

  “Have fun with that,” Roan detached the leather from her hand and walked quietly back out. Lucy stared after him, biting her lip. The girl was clearly smitten, and the guy—hard to tell. Men on the verge of falling hard were known to run the fastest.

  Lucy sighed and turned to her mother. “Why do boys suck?” she asked as she stepped in to help with the chopping.

  The comfort of the familial gathering warmed Nani, but also sent ripples of sadness and fear through her; she had reached her parents and verified their good health, but her brothers, scattered across the Hawaiian Islands, remained out of contact. Being embedded in the Luciano household had begun to feel like a warm cocoon. For a little while, at least, they could ignore what was happening elsewhere.

  “Stop chasing Roan, Lucy!” Ana exclaimed, shaking a finger at her daughter. “You have to play hard to get. Right, Nani?”

  “Uh...” Nani’s cheeks heated, remembering how even the initial sparring match with Luca in Austin, trying to dominate him, had felt like foreplay. “We’re modern women. Some of us....”

  “Knock a man right on his butt and show him who’s boss.” Luca crossed the kitchen in three long strides to grab and kiss her. “And we couldn’t love it more.”

  The laughter and warmth of the family around them made their kiss even sweeter, and Nani sent up a small prayer; gratitude for her wolf, her pregnancy, and for whatever time they had left together.

  <<<<>>>>

  Acknowledgments

  Aloha, Dear Readers!

  As we’ve mentioned before, Toby usually writes the male characters and Emily the female, but for this book we switched. When Emily set about creating the female characters to match the Luciano men she knew that Luca would need a seriously tough chick—and came up with the idea of using a Hawaiian woman as his love interest—then immediately asked Toby to take the reins.

  Some of you may know that Toby lives in Hawaii and writes suspense romance about the people and culture of that island paradise. She wanted to write about a strong, multicultural woman from her home state, and Nani was born of her pen.

  Emily then dove gleefully into Luca’s massive boots and...what? He writes Haiku poems and is a practicing Catholic? Nani fell for him immediately, in spite of her fears—and he for her, in spite of his.

  The conspiracy of the virus was tracked by these two powerful, competent warriors as they fell overwhelmingly, intensely in love, which is how Luca and Nani do everything—big, brave, and brash.

  With every book in this series, we have said, “they’re my favorite!” about the couple...but Nani and Luca, in their dedication to a larger cause, and their ultimate victory and healing, remain unforgettable for both of us.

  We owe special thanks to the amazing M.L. Doyle, who is a retired Sergeant in the Army. Mary kept our foray into the military within the bounds of reasonable and told us about interesting facts like the SCIF. Thank you, Mary! And if you like romance and mystery starring awesome women in combat boots, check out her work here.

  We hope you resonate with the themes of the Scorch Series like we do, even in the scariest of times: We are better together than alone. Love has the power to heal. Through love, we can rebuild the world.

  We hope you will continue the adventures of the Scorch Series with Burnt Road, Scorch Series #4, Dante. We flip all of the “typical romance” tropes right on their butts with this ne
xt amazing story, and we think you’ll love it!

  If you enjoyed the book(s), please leave a review. They matter way more than you know, and we treasure your comments.

  Read on past the end of this for a sample of Burnt Road, Scorch Series #4, Dante.

  XOX,

  Toby & Emily

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  We are both award-winning, bestselling authors with plenty of amazing reads to keep you turning pages into the night as you await the next title in the Scorch Series!

  BURNT ROAD

  A Scorch Series Romance Thriller #4, Dante

  Dante

  The sound of rioting was still far off, but Dante Luciano's sensitive hearing brought it close: the crash of breaking glass, the yelling of the lawless, the rending of metal, glass, and wood, even the crackling of flame. He wished for the ear protection he wore to screen out sound—but there was no shutting out the apocalypse that the Scorch Flu epidemic had unleashed.

  Dante couldn't stay here. Even his secure compound would not keep the looters and rioters at bay with the power down.

  His older brother, JT, had called to warn him of the flu’s devastation, and to ask a favor: that he bring a woman with him on his way to the Haven, JT's secure ex-military shelter complex in Idaho.

  He couldn't say no. He owed JT too much. But he didn't have to like it. Women were messy, unpredictable, emotional, and loud. They made him think of sex. And he didn’t like thinking of sex—all that touching was to be avoided.

  But it was fascinating.

  Purchased with money made from his gaming and programming fortune, Dante’s house in the Hollywood Hills was a fortress where he could retreat and screen out the barrage of sensory input that drained him.

  Dante looked around his customized central living room one last time; fine leather office chairs were positioned in front of three workstations, each with multiple monitors. His beanbag faced a huge flat screen TV that Dante used for downtime gaming. A rack of weights and exercise equipment in the center of the large room helped him keep his body fit for the life of the mind, where he felt truly alive.

  He and JT had known that something like Scorch Flu was coming—something devastating, paradigm-shifting, and world-ending. Dante had prepared to leave—but that didn’t mean he had to like abandoning his perfect environment: sound deadened, low-lit, and air-conditioned. The elements: sun, wind, nature, other people—shredded his senses: overwhelming sensitive eyes, fine-tuned hearing, and reactive skin.

  But Dante was going to pick up the woman, and get to the Haven. He’d told his brother he would, and what Dante promised, he fulfilled.

  All of his most important programs and apps were on a small satellite-hookup laptop with a nearly indestructible case and a solar-powered charger. He had a data backup as well, on a military-grade hard drive the size of a credit card. He went through the house saying a mental goodbye to the machines that had surrounded, equipped, and expressed for him, before going downstairs to the garage.

  The tricked-out Escalade he'd bought two years ago glimmered in the dim garage. Equipped with four-wheel drive, a winch, and tinted bulletproof siding and glass, he appreciated how it made him look like a menacing and anonymous drug lord driving around—another layer of protection.

  He checked the contents of the SUV against the list on his phone: enough dehydrated food for a couple of weeks, tent, sleeping bag, and water in stacked, square gallon jugs. Also several containers of gas, a first aid kit, fire-making tools, light and power sources, and batteries. Last, but not least, were his weapons: a pair of Walther PPK pistols with extra clips and ammo, a distance rifle for hunting and sniper action, and a shotgun, the racking of which was deterrent enough for most.

  Dressed in black cargo pants and a black, ribbed, long-sleeved tee, Dante put on the belt holster that held his knife and pistol, bent down and buckled on an ankle rig for the little Colt .22 backup, and then shrugged into a shoulder rig for the Walther. He’d put in time at a firing range learning to use them, but had never made a habit of carrying. The sensations were distracting; the rubbing of the shoulder holster under his armpit was irritating, and the unaccustomed weight was annoying. And he would never like the sound of a gun firing.

  He would have to adapt to this, and so much else.

  Dante bundled his shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and pulled on a camo billed hat. He felt like he was dressing to play a part as he put on a pair of mirrored aviators—like that time he went as a guest of honor to the Mad Max Wasteland gathering outside of LA, where everyone had to be in costume all weekend...but this was real.

  Dante got into the Escalade, pulled out of his garage, and left the compound without a backward glance. He programmed the woman's address into the GPS. Dante also had paper maps for when communications went down.

  The freeway was a snarled mess and Dante took the shoulder wherever he could, weaving in and out of the congestion. Scorch Flu was wreaking havoc and bringing panic to the masses on the roads, but inside the Escalade with the tinted windows, AC on, and Beethoven playing in the Bose speakers, Dante could screen out the chaos.

  He navigated off the freeway toward her neighborhood.

  JT had said she had black hair. Her name was something to do with music...Dante slowed the big vehicle as he approached the woman's address. A crowd was moving down the street in front of him.

  They were carrying bats, a truck driving alongside to hold their loot, as they bashed into the houses leading up to the Art Deco-style low-rise apartment building that was her address.

  The mob was between him and the woman’s house.

  The Escalade was a lot of things—but not a car that blended. As he slowed, heads turned to watch his progress. He was grateful for the non-regulation dark tinting.

  He scanned the street for a dark-haired woman. He didn’t see any—the mob was made up of men.

  Well, he could tell JT he had tried. He hadn't promised to go fetch her from her apartment while a mob surrounded him. She was going to have to make it on her own.

  Melody

  Melody Parker stared out at the Pacific, shining mercury under cloud cover. Peeling waves, arches of beauty, rose up into a wall of silver, curving over and exploding in a spray of white. It was unusual for the sky to be so gray in Malibu, almost like it knew what was happening below.

  Melody felt the waves pulling at her—a tightness in her chest as her heart tugged toward the sea. She glanced over at her surfboard where it leaned against the wall next to her bike.

  There wasn’t any surfing in Idaho.

  What was she doing? Just because her best friend said that Melody would be safe with these people didn’t make it true. Just because Elizabeth said that this guy, Dante, JT's brother, would pick her up and take her to some safe place called the Haven, didn't make it real.

  But what choice did she have? Getting out was her best chance of surviving this thing.

  One of the puppies, Abigail, a small gray fluff ball, pushed her head up against Melody’s calf and whined. She picked up the little dog and cradled it in her arms like a baby, scratching its soft pink belly.

  Melody fostered animals because of their intrinsic goodness. Unlike people, animals didn’t have ulterior motives and didn't try to take things from Melody that she wasn't willing to give.

  Melody checked her watch’s glowing face. She was supposed to meet Elizabeth’s friend JT’s brother, Dante, at noon sharp outside her building. Elizabeth had told her to meet this Dante, who would be driving a black Escalade, and apparently JT had told Dante to meet her. What a mess.

  Elizabeth wasn’t even going to be there! Her best friend was staying in DC with her family. Who were these people that Melody was going to live with? Hopefully they would be nice—Elizabeth really trusted JT. That meant something. Eli
zabeth was as cautious around men as Melody—and they both had reason to be.

  She pulled on her hiking boots and wound the laces up. They were worn, but not so old that they couldn’t take a beating. Melody usually wore her hiking boots until they fell apart. She’d owned this pair for about six months and only taken one long trip with them. Melody hauled the backpack onto her shoulders and clipped the waist and chest straps.

  She had a small supply of water, more hiking clothing, and a few paleo granola bars she’d made herself, but she wasn’t prepared to go days without resupplying. Hopefully, this guy was better prepared and would share his resources with her.

  Melody gathered up Abigail and her brother, Barkley, carrying one under each arm. She was only supposed to be fostering them—they were supposed to find new homes. In fact, Abigail had been slated to be picked up tomorrow.

  What had become of the person who thought that Abigail would be their dog? Were they sick with Scorch Flu? Were they fleeing the city like she was?

  Melody opened her apartment door and stepped into the hallway. She approached the front entrance and looked through the glass door, craning her neck so that she could see down the block.

  There was a mob of men moving up the street, a truck following as they broke into houses, looting them. Melody glanced back at her own apartment door, which was slowly shutting, the view disappearing as the lock clicked into place.

  She should have brought a weapon. Why didn’t she own a gun? Everyone else in this country seemed to have one but her.

  Melody twirled the yellow gold band with a small speck of a diamond on her right ring finger. The ring had been her mother's, her first engagement ring from Melody's father. After he made his fortune lobbying in Washington, DC, he’d bought her mom a giant rock, a yellow diamond set in an intricately carved platinum band. Melody's mom had given her the simple ring with a jaded glint in her eye.