by Jordan Marie
In the corner, there are a couple of small beds, which ironically enough look like beds in a jail cell, complete with army cot mattresses. Max goes over and flips the thin pads over.
“Come here,” he grunts like a he-man, and as if using words at all, pains him. I go, because let’s face it, discretion is the better part of valor and all that.
“Sit on the bed.”
“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” I mutter but do it. He squats down in front of me and reaches under the bed. I let my gaze move over the small room, trying to ignore him. That is a mistake because I hear a clicking noise and feel cold metal circle my wrist. I look back to Max, and he has me handcuffed! He attaches the other end to a metal bar that runs across the base of the small headboard. He doesn’t even say a word to me. He leaves me like that and starts going back up the ladder.
I thought I was scared before, but now I am petrified.
“Max! I won’t tell anyone which way you go. I could die here! No one will find me! Please don’t do this!” I beg, choking on the fear that’s so real and intense, my heart is hurting. He ignores me. “Max, please! You don’t have to do this!”
He stops at the top rung and turns back to look at me. Our eyes lock, and his cold gaze gives away nothing. Then, he goes the rest of the way out and shuts the entrance door with a heavy thud.
I look around the room and try to still the runaway beating of my heart. Tears are stinging my eyes, and I try not to give into them. Surely he wouldn’t leave me here? He killed a man because of his wife and baby. Right? Someone like that he doesn’t have it in him to hurt a woman. I try to justify all these things over and over in my head.
I know so much more about Max Kincaid than I should. I’ve spent months reading his file and being fascinated by the man. I’ve read everything I could get on him. He owns a tattoo shop on the outskirts of Ormond that caters to bikers, truckers and is known for being a no-nonsense shop. He spent years in the army and even had a purple heart for saving his platoon in an attack somewhere in Syria. Everything about him screams that he is a good man. All reports indicated that his estranged wife fell in with the wrong crowd and hooked herself up with a drug dealer who got his kicks out of beating women and selling them for money. Max found her lying in a pool of blood. She was six months pregnant at the time. Max hunted the man down that killed her and returned the favor. I can’t find what he did horrible, and I don’t know what that says about me. When I read in detail the state of his wife’s body, I even cheered for Max. I think my heart broke for him. Can you fall in love with someone from reading a file about his life? I think I kind of did, and maybe that explains my reaction to him and why I let him touch me. Why I wanted it. Yet, everything I have read didn’t prepare me for a man who would leave me to die in the bottom of an abandoned bunker. So he’ll come back, right? He has to.
8
Max
I’m a bastard for letting Tess think I’m leaving her to die. I’m so mad right now. I’m mad at her, and I’m mad at myself. Why did she let me touch her? Why did she let me make her come? God, why did she have to call out my name when she orgasmed? Before the woman was getting under my skin, and now; fuck, now she’s imbedded so deep I have a feeling I’ll never be free of her and if I’m honest that is what is bothering me the most.
I had an uncle that I unaffectionately referred to as Crazy Uncle Raymond. He is the one that had that old bomb shelter installed underground. He believed the Zombie Apocalypse was close and wanted to hide out safely while the government developed a cure. Too bad the old bastard didn’t put all that energy into giving up the bottle instead. He died driving home from a local tavern in Ormond when he wrapped his old El Camino around a tree.
Raymond also had an old hunting cabin about a mile away from here. I want to hit it before the law starts searching for me. I’ve been lucky; it’s been quiet so far. I figure they are still collating information and trying to contain the damage from the prison break. I think I got a good head start, but that’s going to disappear fast.
My legs are getting damn tired, but I’m afraid to rest. There’s no telling what kind of mess Tess will get into even if she is handcuffed. A steady jog gets me to the cabin a little quicker. It feels good to breathe in the fresh air and stretch my legs. Freedom. It is something that I took for granted before I went inside and shouldn’t have. I don’t know how long I’ll stay out. Chances are I will be killed by a cop before I even get the chance to turn myself back in. Isn’t that how most prison-breaks end? With what seems to be happening with Tess, I think it might be worth it. One taste of life’s sweetness before I die. There are worse ways to go and it’s probably better than I deserve.
The old hunting cabin hasn’t changed a bit. Somehow I think I can still smell Uncle Raymond’s horrible old aftershave. When I decided to kill the bastard who robbed me of my child, I stored away certain things here. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Part of me wanted to leave the country, run away from everything and try to feel alive again. A larger part acknowledged I was already dead inside, and there was no reason to live. I prepared for both choices, hoping against hope that killing the bastard would free me from the darkness that had overtaken me. It didn’t.
My first stop in the cabin is the floor directly in front of the old ceramic sink. I get down on my hands and knees and pull the small handmade curtain that’s been hung around the sink in place of cabinet doors. I smile when I see Uncle Raymond’s old tool bag. Finding a screwdriver, I go to the fake plank that Raymond fixed. I pry the board back. Underneath is a false bottom my Uncle used to stash his money in. His reasoning was that, as sneaky as the government was, you would have to be rich to afford a cure during the apocalypse. I never tried to talk him out of it, because hell, if that’s what the old man believed, who was I to argue?
Inside there’s a large roll of money and some fake ID’s provided by some of my buddies in the Steel Vipers, a local motorcycle club I do ink for. I grab it and gather a few more things I think I might need. Before I leave, I go to the makeshift closet and take out the overnight bag I packed all those years ago. I’ve slimmed and bulked up thanks to prison life and routines, but the clothes there will still fit. I switch into jeans, and a t-shirt, grab an old hunting sack that’s lying on the table and store the rest of my finds in it, including the prison jumpsuit. I don’t want to announce I’ve been here if I can help it. Then, I head back to the bunker. I swear when I get back I’m going to somehow manage to sleep for a couple of hours.
______
I don’t know what I expected when I got back to the bumper, but I don’t think it was finding Tess sleeping. She’s lying on the old army cot sound asleep. Her hair is wet and sticking to her jaw, and you can see the glistening tracks of tears on her face. Guilt sucker punches me in the gut. It’s not a feeling I’m used to having. Hell, the only time I’ve ever had it was when I lost my child.
I should have done something to pull my ex, Renee, out of the pit she had crawled into. I didn’t know it was as bad as it actually was. She kept it hidden, but even that’s not the complete truth. I didn’t care enough to know more. I was glad she was out of my hair.
Saying that, if I could go back, I would. I never should have messed with Renee anyway. She was a muffler bunny the Vipers kept. It was just a weekend lay because if there was one fucking thing that Renee was good at, it was sucking cock and riding it. Hindsight is definitely twenty-twenty.
I go to the chest my uncle kept and find the old army blankets inside. They are wool blankets that are soft and still in the plastic packaging. The National Guard passes them out in times of disaster, and somehow Uncle Raymond got tons of them. They can’t be washed without falling apart, but cleanliness was something that wasn’t a top priority for Raymond, so guess he didn’t care. I pull a cover over her and smile at the soft whimper she gives. She’s beautiful really, but so tiny and frail you could imagine a little wind would knock her over. On the heels of that thought are memories of her back-talkin
g and arguing with me. She has substance. She might have more than any person I’ve ever met before, but I can’t weaken towards her. Whatever I decide from here out, I know it’s probably not going to end well. I made my bed with my choices in the past, and there’s not a damn thing I could or would do to change them.
I store my stuff under my bed and decide to lay down on the small cot beside her. It’s early, barely dusk outside, but this is just a temporary stop, and I’m going to need to find rest where I can get it. Tomorrow, I need to figure out what exactly I’m going to do and what in the hell I’m going to do with Tess. I’ve been acting like an idiot. I can’t keep her, I don’t even know why I have. It’s like someone else has taken over my mind and is calling all the shots. I have to let her go. I have to.
“You came back for me,” Tess mumbles from the bed beside me. I turn to look at her and nearly groan. Sexy should be the last thing she is right now. Her makeup is smeared; her eyes have circles, and her hair is a mess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman.
I don’t answer her and instead go back to staring up at the ceiling.
“You know when I was little, I used to dream of a man whisking me off my feet. We’d leave and go on the run from my family. It would be fun and exciting and full of adventure. The dream is much better than the reality, Max.”
“Why did you want to run away from your family?” My voice is gruff, probably because I fought questioning her, but I just had to ask.
This time, she goes silent. I think she’s going to ignore the question, but as she has all day, Tess surprises me.
“Some people are not good. They’re so far away from good it’s frightening.”
“Seems you attract us,” I grunt. I can just drop her off in town tomorrow once I get a car. I’ll set her out, go on my way and enjoy whatever time I have before the devil comes calling.
“You’re not like them, Max, you’re nothing like them,” the tone of her voice makes me turn to look at her again. Her eyes are closed, and she’s snuggled like she’s in a cocoon, except for the one hand which is laying out at an angle because of the cuff. The sight of her handcuffed to the bed talks to my dick and what it says makes him rock hard. “What you did had a reason. When I read your file, I secretly cheered what you did. Children should have someone to extract vengeance for them. They can’t do it themselves. What you did might have been wrong according to the judicial system, but they get so much shit wrong on a daily basis, who’s to say they don’t have this wrong too.
Her words roll over me, dig under the skin and lodge there. Lodge in a way I know they will fester and cause me trouble later.
“No one stood up for you?”
“One person, Rory. He stood up for me. He always stood up for me.”
“What happened with the two of you?”
“I married him.”
“You’re married?” I ask, and I do my best to ignore the way those words burn. It’s a good decision to let her go tomorrow. She has a man. She has a life ahead of her.
“Not anymore.”
“He stop taking up for you?”
“He died.”
“Tough break,” It’s an asinine thing to say, but then so is the feeling of happiness that an unnamed person was dead. It’s still what I feel inside.
“Yeah, it was. Did you go to your Uncle Raymond’s?”
“How did you know?”
“The hunting cabin and your uncle was in your file. I told you; I’ve been reading about you for months.” I don’t make a comment. I don’t think I’d know what to say. “Are you leaving in the morning, Max?”
“Yeah, it won’t be safe to stay.”
“Take me with you, Max. Don’t leave me here alone again, please?”
Across the room the light from the lantern flickers and then burns completely out. Darkness drapes over us and I hear her voice repeat in my head. Take me with you, Max. I can’t keep her, but maybe it would be okay to take her with me, just one more day. Truth is, I’m just not ready to let her go yet.
“Go to sleep, Tess,” I tell her, rolling over on my side and giving her my back.
“You didn’t answer. Please, Max? Don’t leave me here alone.”
“You’ll go with me when we leave, but you may wish you hadn’t before it’s over.”
“Sweet dreams, Max.”
Again, I don’t know how to answer her. I don’t think anyone has ever said those words to me before. I need sleep, but I lay there a long time before sleep claims me, the last thing I hear is Tess’s plea in my mind.
“Take me with you, Max.”
9
Tess
A clanging noise jerks me awake. I sit up and feel the sharp pain in my wrist as I pull too far away. Handcuffs. Memories from the day before surface and panic once again overtake me as I think Max has left me alone again. Relief almost overwhelms me when I find him standing over an old camping stove, cooking.
“You have food?” I ask, excited. I’m starved. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.
“I’m not sure you can call it food, so don’t get too thrilled.”
“Oh my God, Max! Is that bacon I smell?”
“It’s more like cured jerky,” he says dryly.
“I don’t care what it is, just give it here,” I answer him, my mouth watering. “Oh my god, is that eggs?” I ask when I see the fluffy mounds of yellow sitting on the plate, he brings me.
“More like dried powder. Still, they aren’t bad in a pinch,” he says putting the plate down on my lap. There’s the not quite bacon-bacon, eggs, toast and… “Peaches?” I question him.
He shrugs, “I thought you might want fruit. Women like that kind of thing right?”
I want to ask what he did with gruff, silent Max, but I don’t want him to make a reappearance, so I zip it up.
“It’s great…umm can I get, I mean will you unhook me so I can eat?” I hold up my hand waving it and making the chain rattle. He looks at me and back to the handcuff.
“I’ll feed you,” he says, his eyes darker.
My stomach flutters at the look in his eyes and I’m imagining him feeding me. I want that. I want more of what we did together yesterday, even knowing I shouldn’t. I need to divert him right now though and figure out exactly what I’m going to do.
“Max, this is ridiculous, it’s not like I can get away from you. Just let me loose so I can eat, and while we’re talking about it, I need to use the facilities, so…” I trail off wiggling the chain again.
He frowns, but pulls a key out of his pocket and undoes my lock. I rub my wrist, from reflex. It doesn’t really hurt; Max fixed the cuff so that it was very loose. I just don’t like the idea of being restrained. A flash of need has me picturing myself restrained; naked while Max is over me…I ignore it. That’s definitely not going to help me clear my head and figure out what to do.
“The facilities, Kitten, are an old lard bucket behind that row of shelves,” Max says, watching every move I make.
“A lard bucket?”
“No indoor plumbing in a cheap underground survival shelter,” he returns in his wry, statement-of-fact voice that I’m either beginning to really like or hate. It’s a toss-up.
“Of course not, was he afraid the zombies would crawl up the drains?” I ask, going behind the shelves.
“Don’t know, never cared enough to ask. You sure know an awful lot about me.”
My face flames and I’m glad I’m behind the shelves. Did I give away too much? Would he know how I’ve sat alone at night and combed over his files and pictures, enthralled with his life? Could he guess that before I even saw him at the prison yesterday, looking so cold and aloof, but still devastatingly handsome that I was already infatuated with him? It makes me sound like a kook. I get that. Hell, I’m starting to think I am completely crazy. If you add in my reaction to him and the fact that I don’t hate him or want to maim him right now, I just might be certifiably insane.
“I told you, I had t
o research the file that the county of Ormond has on you to prepare for your parole hearing,” I lie and, it is a straight-up, bald-faced lie.
“I thought you said your boss threw this on you yesterday morning, without warning?”
I forgot about the high intelligence notes the warden and guards reported about Max.
“He did, but I am the one who prepares his arguments and notes,” I return, carefully avoiding his eyes, in case he can see the lies on my face. “Do we have water and you know, maybe some soap?” I finally ask, to divert him. I need to stop talking about this. I’m afraid of what more I might give away.
“Over by the old basin.”
I look in the direction he gestures and see an old, silver, antique wash basin and pitcher and beside it is a gallon jug of water. I wash my hands quickly and come back to the bed and grab the food that Max gave me earlier. He has a similar-looking plate on his bed, and I’m secretly excited as a teenage girl over Justin Bieber. Inside there’s a part of me squealing that I get to eat breakfast with Max Kincaid.
I take a hesitant bite of the eggs. It’s definitely not five-star cuisine, but passable. The bacon is very disappointing, but I manage to swallow down a couple of strips. The toast is…yeah, I’m not touching whatever that is.
“Umm…what are these things?” I ask looking at my plate dubiously, after tasting the cardboard…err…bread and putting it back down quickly.
“Kind of a homemade version of an MRE,” he says, having downed all of his and finished his drink from the box. I carefully puncture mine and stick the attached straw in it. It’s not horrible, I’m not sure you could call it orange juice, but the flavor is kind of there, so I drink it.
“A MR what?”
“A MRE, Meal ready to eat. The military feeds them to astronauts or soldiers overseas. National Guard also…”