Storm Gathering

by Rebecca Zanetti

  The sight made Greyson slightly nauseated. “Jesus. Put down the gun.”

  Maureen paused. “What a sweet baby.” Her face went all soft. “May I hold her?”

  Lou paused. “Have you been infected?”

  Maureen nodded and stepped back.

  “The baby hasn't,” Lou confirmed. “We try to clean everything so she doesn't touch the bacteria, but at some point…”

  Maureen paled. “I know. Some of the newer studies that came out indicated that the Scorpius bacterium dies out much quicker than we thought without a live host. So only people can transmit it via bodily fluids.”

  Lou clapped her hands together. “You mean she can't get it by just touching something?”

  Maureen slowly shook her head. “That's the latest news I got before everything went dark, so I can't guarantee it. But it's something to hold on to.” Then she turned to a row of trees. “Almonds. You have almonds.” And she was off.

  Lou followed her, wringing her hands. “Yeah, and we don't know what to do with them. I mean, there's so many.”

  “We'll trade,” Greyson said. “How about fresh fish for produce? What else do you have?”

  Lou pointed mourned. “We have walnuts, sheep, chickens, wool, oranges, lemons, and some strawberries. There's also basil, carrots, onions, peaches, potatoes, melon, and zucchini. I'm pretty sure.”

  Maureen dropped to her haunches in front of a tree. “Oh, no. You have Ganoderma here.”

  Lou paused. “What the hell is that?”

  Moe pointed to what looked like mushrooms at the bottom of the trunk. “Conks. It's a genus of fungi. I suggest that unless you have a bunch of phosphates sitting around, you remove trees that have this. Burn them, and especially burn any slash piles.” She stood and kept going.

  Lou looked at Greyson. “Conks?”

  Grey shrugged. Hell if he knew. But it was impressive to watch Maureen in her natural habitat, checking out crops and talking in Latin. She became more likable every damn day, and he wanted her in his life. Every moment. Making it better.

  So far, he’d done a crappy job of protecting her. Once he got her to the Bunker, he could get her secured.

  Then he'd finally be able to take a full breath again.

  “Oh, look at the zucchini,” Moe breathed, hustling in the other direction.

  Grey grinned. He couldn't help it.

  * * *

  It felt beyond good to be around crops and plants again in the sun. Maureen almost hopped from one crop to the other, giving advice, genuinely liking Lou. As they toured the organic farm, more and more people came out of different parts, listening and learning.

  A bunch of people who'd banded together to farm.

  Much better than to fight. Maureen laughed at a few little girls who were running through the trees, playing tag. Maybe there was a chance for society to rebuild.

  She watched Greyson from beneath lowered eyelids.

  He kept on guard, being polite, but still obviously dangerous. The farm people were fun cocker spaniels, and Greyson was a jaguar ready to strike.

  Most of the people kept their distance, yet a couple of the younger women sidled closer. One was a cute blonde in Daisy Duke shorts. Every time Greyson asked a question, she giggled like a moron. Maureen wanted to grab him and just kiss him. To stake her claim.

  That was so not like her. What happened to her preferring brains over brawn? Or not liking soldiers? The farmers around her, the ones trying to cultivate…those were her people. Not this muscled, strategic, graceful man of action. Greyson Storm was the exact opposite of what she’d always dreamed about.

  Yet here she was, wanting to scratch the blonde's eyes out.

  Greyson nodded toward another set of trees. “Walnuts?”

  She moved that direction. “Yes.” Darn it. More fungi. “These have Botryosphaeria Cankers. Probably because of the overly wet spring.” She turned to Lou. “I'll leave you directions on how to protect the healthy trees the best you can.”

  Lou nodded and turned to Greyson. “So. We'll trade. We want fresh fish, weapons, and medicine.”

  Grey smiled. “Fresh fish and weapons. We're out of medicine, or at least close enough.”

  Lou sighed. “All right. Talk to me about guns.”

  Maureen glanced over at the guy with the baby again. The child had to be about three months old with a shocking amount of black hair and what looked like brown eyes. Absolutely adorable. She just looked around, keeping track of everything.

  Greyson eyed her but kept his distance. Would he even want a baby? He caught Maureen staring and smiled, sending tingles through her entire body.

  It was amazing she could still feel anything after the previous night. Well, except sore. She ached in places she hadn't realized existed. Grey was the most attentive lover she'd ever had. There wasn't an inch of her he hadn't kissed, licked, or nipped. Her over-sensitized body flared, wide-awake at the remembrance.

  His chin lowered. “You okay? You're getting flushed.”

  If he had any idea. She choked back a whimper. “Yeah. Just a little warm.”

  He nodded. “We need to get going, anyway.”

  Lou frowned. “I'm so sorry you have to leave.” She reached out and took Maureen's hands, ignoring Greyson's immediate step toward them. “Please tell me you'll come back. We could use your knowledge, and it'd be fun to get to know you better. We can have dinner next time.”

  Maureen squeezed the woman's hands. “I'd love to return for dinner.” Cultivating relationships with groups was necessary for survival. Plus, she liked this ragtag group just trying to learn how to farm. Everyone had a smile and hope, which was rare after Scorpius. “Grey and I will be back.”

  Greyson kept silent, eyeing the land around them. “I'll have one of my men hammer out the deal with you later this week. If we did have a little medicine left, what would you need?”

  Lou glanced at the baby. “Probably antibiotics.”

  Grey watched the baby, his expression softening just a little. “I'll find you some. I promise.”

  Hope smoothed through Maureen. Maybe there was a chance for them.

  She really should tell him about the baby. The man had a right to know.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The woman, my woman, is sweet, smart, and kind. I like that about her. But she's gonna hate it when I lock her down for her own safety. Don't blame her. Doesn't change the reality, though. I know you'd lecture me, but survival is more important than manners right now, Miss J. Sorry.

  —Greyson Storm, Letters to Miss Julian

  Greyson breathed a sigh of relief when he was back on the road surrounded by his men. Maureen was still silent, and now she was a little pale. Maybe the bug she was fighting was winning.

  “Moe? We could go back to headquarters and drive to the Bunker tomorrow,” he said, scanning a series of crashed cars on the left shoulder.

  She shook her head. “No. I need to check out the Bunker before we come up with any plans.”

  He liked that she said 'we,’ but there was something definitely bothering her. To call her shoulders tight would be an understatement, based on the rigid line of her neck. Had she wanted to stay longer at the farm? Or worse yet, did she regret their night together?

  It was too late to go back. He could be a good guy sometimes, and he'd been taught to be a gentleman, but the previous night had nothing to do with manners. She'd given herself to him, and he wasn't letting go. What that meant for them, he hadn't figured out. But it meant something, if not everything. Yet he'd still sent scouts to arrange a meet with the president. He had to look at all angles. For now, it was time to figure out the woman in his life. “Maureen?” he rumbled.

  She turned, her gaze direct, her face pale. “Yes?”

  He reached out and took her hand, scouting for threats at the same time. “I didn't get a chance to ask earlier. Are you okay? I mean, was the night too much?” He'd forgotten she hadn't been feeling well.

  Her eyes softened, but th
e stress lines fanning out from them didn't smooth. “Last night was wonderful.”

  All right then. “Something is bothering you, and I can't fix it if I don't know what it is,” he said, watching a pile of what looked like shattered plastic canoes on the right side of the interstate.

  She sighed, her entire chest moving. “It's not your job to fix what bothers me, but I agree we should definitely talk tonight after we get back from the Bunker. But not until then.” She left her hand in his, looking fragile and a little lost in the big seat.

  He frowned. “I promised I'd take you to the Bunker no matter what. So I will. Nothing you can say will change that.” If she thought she was just going to leave him, she had seriously miscalculated.

  “I know,” she said, her voice soft.

  Irritation clawed up his throat, and he swallowed. “I've tried real hard to be a gentleman with you, but I'm done with the secrets and the fear. I won't hurt you, and you know it. So whatever it is, whatever you're planning to do, or think you're planning to do, it's time you told me.”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw firmed.

  God, she had a cute jaw.

  He glanced at the city below the interstate. “We have about fifteen minutes of the drive left, and that's plenty of time to chat. In fact, with the way things have been going lately, it might be our only quiet chance. So tell me what the hell is going on, or we're going to drive around until you do.”

  She drew her hand away and lifted her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

  “I won't hurt you, Moe,” he said quietly, gaze returning to the road.

  She sighed. “I kind of imagined this talk on the deck watching the ocean. Peaceful.”

  This talk? Why the hell did he need peace? Was she dumping him? Things had changed last night. Surely she understood that. He glanced at her. “This is about as peaceful as it's gonna get for a while.” That was unfortunately true.

  She turned her head on her knees and sighed again. Then she straightened up, put her feet on the floor, and partially moved to face him, even hampered by the seatbelt across her chest. “All right, but try not to freak out too much.”

  He wasn't a guy who freaked out. “Okay.” What the hell was going on?

  Her face turned pink.

  He watched, fascinated. “Moe?”

  She breathed in, her nostrils flaring. “Okay. Here it is. I'm pregnant.”

  The words didn't compute. He blinked. “Huh?” His mind scrambled. “From last night?” What? Wait a minute. What?

  She blinked, and her forehead crinkled. “No, not from last night.” She rolled her eyes just a little. He could swear she did. She swallowed. “From last time I was here. The, well…the drunk night.”

  His brain wouldn't kick back in. “We used a condom,” he said slowly, a ringing starting in his ears.

  “Yeah, well, it wasn't a good one.” She turned back to the front.

  His mouth opened, independent of his brain. “Wah, well, uh.”

  “Nicely said,” she snapped, clasping her hands together. “And yes, it's your baby. I broke up with my last boyfriend, a total geek by the way, two years ago.”

  Whoa. He was totally blowing this. “I, ah, just give me a minute.” The ringing turned into a full-on roaring between his ears. He took several deep breaths. This was happening. Holy shit. His mind settled. “Okay. Pregnant.” Then he noticed the danger surrounding them on all sides. He had to get her back to headquarters. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Nope,” she said, easily reading him. “You promised we'd go to the Bunker. Promised.”

  Fuck, damn, and double fuck. “You didn’t give me all the information I needed to make that promise.” But the Bunker had far superior medical facilities than anywhere else, and Tace Justice was in the truck behind them. Maybe she should go there for a checkup or whatever they did for women who were barely pregnant. He kept his speed steady. “I do have the route cleared,” he murmured thoughtfully.

  “It's important,” she murmured. “The Bunker, and the information there.”

  He looked at her again, seeing her differently. Oh, she'd looked fragile before, but now she looked breakable. Frighteningly so. “I was too rough last night. You should've told me.”

  Now she full-on rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Grey. You're good, but pregnant women have been having sex for centuries. Get over yourself.”

  “Hey. I'm new at this,” he muttered.

  “Ditto,” she said softly.

  He paused. That was true. He had to be better at this than he was currently being. “No way your brother knows. No fucking way.”

  She winced. “Yeah. Figured I'd tell him when I was safely back at Vanguard.”

  The words took a second to penetrate.

  He turned and faced her full-on. “That's not gonna happen now. You get that, right?”

  * * *

  Maureen's mouth gaped open. Oh, she'd expected it a little, but to hear the words uttered in his deep tone brought home the reality. “I think it's a little early to be getting bossy, Greyson.”

  His eyebrows drew down, and he scouted the area again, his hands loose on the steering wheel, and his body once again relaxed. As much as Greyson relaxed, anyway. “Listen. You didn't really think you could tell me that you're pregnant with my child and expect I'd just let you go. Did you?”

  No, but she couldn't let him believe that he called all the shots. “It's my decision.”

  His chin lifted, but he didn't reply to her statement. “Is that why you've been sick?”

  “I think so.” She slid her hands down her jeans. “In fact, if we find any crackers scouting or at the Bunker, I'd really like to have them. I've read those help with the morning sickness.” It was so damn odd to be talking about crackers with a guy she was just getting to know after he'd knocked her up. She hated that expression. She should probably stop thinking it.

  “I'll find you crackers.” The soldier still looked a little dazed.

  She breathed in, counted to seven, and breathed out slowly before continuing. “There's more.”

  He slowly turned his head, his eyes darkening to a deep blue-gray with only a hint of the green. “How can there possibly be more?”

  Wasn't there always more these days? She owed him the entire truth. “According to one of the Vanguard doctors, there hasn't been a live birth from a Scorpius survivor. All have miscarried as far as we know.”

  His eyelids lowered to half-mast. “We don't know shit. Everyone is cut off from everyone else, so there is no way to know that a Scorpius survivor can't carry to full term.”

  She'd needed to hear him say those words. Until that very second, she hadn't realized how badly she needed that from him specifically. The knots in her neck loosened, and the constant band around her chest finally eased. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I agree.”

  “Good.” He turned back to the road. “We should probably find a book somewhere on pregnancies,” he mused, turning the wheel to drive around a mini-van lacking tires that had been knocked onto its side. “I don't think you're supposed to eat certain kinds of fish.”

  She swallowed. “I have no clue.” Were there fish she shouldn't eat? “Where are we going to find a book?”

  “The mansions around headquarters are full of books,” he said. “I'll start going through them when we get back tomorrow.”

  She blinked. “Tomorrow? You want to stay the night at the Bunker?”

  “I had a surprise planned for you, but you win that contest.” He turned and his lips twitched into almost a smile. “Your surprise trumps them all.”

  Yeah, that was the truth. She tried to smile back, but her lips trembled. “I'm hoping there's information at the Bunker about pregnancies and Scorpius survivors, you know? There has to be something. I've been scared.”

  He nodded. “I understand. But everything will be okay.”

  He couldn't promise that, but she appreciated his attempt anyway.

  “I, ah,
want this baby,” he said quietly. “Thought you should know that.”

  His soft words wound right through her, settling into her heart with a physical warmth. “Me too,” she murmured.

  He nodded, his gaze on the damaged concrete on the road.

  The truck ahead of them turned off the interstate with two of the motorcycles following suit. Greyson followed, driving down into what used to be Century City. “There's an underground parking area for the Bunker, and we control it. But once we're inside, I want you to wait in the vehicle until the outside doors are closed and I get the right signal by the guard waiting by the elevator.”

  She looked out at the formerly busy part of town. Business doors gaped open, and window after window was smashed. A clowder of wild cats milled around what looked like a decayed body on the ground in front of a former coffee shop with turned-over outside tables and a couple of ripped umbrellas.

  “At some point, the buildings will fall,” Greyson said somberly.

  “Yes.” Nature had already started to retake the area, poking up green in the concrete and climbing the buildings. “The wild cats are new.”

  “They're everywhere,” Greyson said. “Packs of bigger dogs are mixing with wolves, and they're going to be a problem at some point. Most of the house dogs or smaller breeds are dying out already.”

  She rubbed her chest. “I've heard that wild animals have escaped zoos. There's even a lion named Marvin that lives outside of Vanguard territory. The guards feed him.”

  “Marvin?” Greyson asked, his focus on a couple of dirt-riddled scavengers, older men, over by a former shoe store.

  “Jax named him, I guess.” Maureen eyed the men, her heart hurting for them.

  Greyson turned another corner and then drove down into a parking garage. Two guards flanked the entrance, and one nodded. Darkness and then cool air suddenly surrounded them. They drove to the far end and parked to the right of an elevator.

  A man in black with a huge gun stood by the side. He lifted a hand and gave Greyson some weird signal.