Heaven in Hell: Episode Two: A Post-Apocalyptic Paranormal Romance Series (The second episode in the Heaven in Hell Series)

by Dia Cole

  He had gone from intimidating to breathtaking in a heartbeat. My breath grew shallow as I remembered his mouth on mine at the hospital. Even now, I could almost taste the cinnamon flavor of his lips.

  He pushed off against the machine and turned to face me. “Our mission was supposed to be simple.” He ticked off his fingers as he spoke. “Gather the civilians on the list, get them to the school, and rendezvous with the chopper.”

  Then his voice tightened. “If I’d known what would’ve happened, I wouldn’t have let her go on the mission.”

  “If she was anything like me, I doubt she’d let you make that kind of decision for her.”

  “You’re right,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re both stubborn as a pair of mules.”

  “Did you just call me an ass?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  His expression didn’t soften. He stood there staring at me with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

  Uncomfortable with the awkward silence, I pulled myself onto the nearest chair. “Are we staying the night?”

  He snapped out of his weird reverie. “I don’t think we have a choice. It’s close to sundown.” He nodded at the orange glow filtering through the window blinds. “Without a car, it’s too dangerous to travel in the dark.”

  I gnawed my lower lip. The idea of staying the night away from the safety of the school didn’t sit well. “The Historic District isn’t far from the safe house,” I said, calling up my mental map of Saguaro Valley.

  “It doesn’t matter how far away it is. We’ve got no car, a seriously injured man, a limping woman, and a drunk. We’re going nowhere.”

  “Drunk?”

  “Grady found a stash of whiskey in a desk drawer. He’d downed half the bottle before we realized what he’d done.”

  “What the hell?” I’d never cared for the redneck, but getting trashed seemed extremely stupid even for him. “Shouldn’t he be trying to find a way back to his daughter?”

  Rosie doesn’t have much time left.

  Dominic only grunted.

  “Are we safe here?”

  He crossed his arms, and glared down at me. “Nowhere is safe.”

  “I know. Rule sixteen,” I said with a sigh.

  He’s back to being a drill sergeant.

  “This location is defensible, and there weren’t many infected around the building. We’re working on barricading the front entrance, and we used plenty of air freshener to disguise our scent.”

  “So that’s why it smells like Christmas exploded in here,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

  He rolled his shoulders and winced. He was in pain.

  “You’re hurt.” I said not even trying to hide that accusation in my tone.

  “I’m fine.”

  Such a male response. “No. You’re not. Show me.”

  “It’s nothing.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Some shrapnel from the explosion hit my back. I’ve already removed it.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said sarcastically, turning to show me his back.

  There was a three-inch gash in his shirt, just above his waistband. Blood saturated the fabric.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Crap. That looks bad.

  “You need to have Darcy look at it.”

  “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “Well, at least let me put a bandage on it.”

  I can do that much.

  He looked as if he wanted to argue, but I’d already toed my backpack over by the strap. I reached down to pull it up and dug through the contents pulling out some of the alcohol swabs and bandages I’d grabbed from the animal hospital. “Take off your shirt.”

  When I looked up, his black tactical vest and shirt were off. Rational thought evaporated as I gawked at the sight of his smooth chest. His thickly muscled shoulders were wide, like a boxer’s, and they tapered to a chiseled six-pack. Wow. I’d never seen abs like that in real life.

  His fingers tapped impatiently on the tactical vest he held. “Is this going to happen sometime this week?”

  I picked my jaw up off the floor and mentally kicked myself in the ovaries. “I was just wondering about your tattoo. What is it?” I pointed at the light-colored tribal tattoo that was partially hidden by his dog tags.

  He looked down at his chest, as if remembering it was there. He pulled the dog tags aside so I could see that the tattoo was of a scorpion.

  “I used to have a fear of scorpions.”

  “So the obvious thing to do was get one inked on your body for all time.”

  His mouth quirked up. “The tattoo never lasts long. I have to get it re-inked pretty often. I get it as a reminder that we grow stronger by conquering our fears.” He reached over and set the vest on the table. “What do you fear, Lee?”

  My mind stalled at the question.

  What don’t I fear? I fear the dark. The monsters outside. The pain of dying and becoming like them. Losing Reed. The growing feelings I have for this soldier.

  My hands got clammy at the thought of sharing any of that with him.

  “I also have a tattoo,” I blurted out like an idiot instead. I twisted around and pulled down the edge of my shirt enough to reveal the inked feathers that ran down my back.

  “Angel wings?” he said, a note of incredulousness creeping into his tone. “Why am I not surprised?”

  My spine stiffened as my shirt slid back up.

  What does he mean by that?

  “What’s their significance?”

  I pressed my lips together. I rarely talked about my older sister.

  He nodded as if recognizing that I wasn’t going to answer him. “I’ve been meaning to ask about your tags.” He pointed to the dog tags around my neck. “Whose are they?”

  I looked down. My heart squeezed tightly as I thought of Duncan. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss my surrogate uncle. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  He cocked his head to the side as if that was the last answer he expected.

  “An old family friend gave them to me. They were the dog tags from a soldier that saved his life.” Duncan had worn the tags to remember the man’s sacrifice. After Duncan had taken a bullet meant for me, he’d pressed the tags into my hands with his dying breath. I swallowed hard around the knot in my throat.

  Dominic reached down and gently pulled up one of the tags from around my neck. “Jackson Rhodes. Can’t say I knew him.”

  I jerked the tag out of his hand. “Of course not. He died in Vietnam.”

  Dominic opened his mouth, and then closed it.

  I opened an alcohol packet. The acrid smell cleared my mind.

  Why the heck am I having a heart-to-heart with this guy?

  “Turn around,” I said a little sharper than I intended.

  Neither one of us spoke while I cleaned his wound. Oddly enough, Dominic was right. Despite the ridiculously large tear in his shirt, the injury was small and it almost looked as if part of it’d already healed over. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume it’d happened days ago.

  Dominic held himself as far away from me as he could, as if my very touch was bothering him.

  “Hopefully this will keep infection out,” I said, covering the injury with a sterile pad.

  “Are we done now?” Without waiting for me to respond, he twisted around.

  My hand, still poised to hold the pad in place, grazed his stomach.

  His abs flexed, and a husky groan escaped his lips.

  The gauze pad fluttered to the ground as I looked up.

  The usual scowl he wore was gone. His eyes smoldered with dark fire.

  Oh my.

  I clenched my thighs together as an answering heat pulsed through me.

  He inhaled sharply, as if he smelled my arousal.

  My seated position put my face inches away from the impressive bulge pressing against his fly.

  He wants me.

  The realization shouldn’t have excited me a
s much as it did.

  “Remove your hand.”

  My cheeks warmed when I saw how my fingers were splayed across his stomach. Embarrassment made me saucy. “Why don’t you remove it yourself?”

  His hand shackled my wrist. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled me to standing. His body brushed against every inch of mine on the ascent.

  My injured leg buckled, forcing me to rest my free hand on his chest for balance.

  His skin was warm and smooth. The beat of his heart under my fingertips kicked my own into overdrive.

  My stomach flipped over on itself as I realized his eyes were locked on my lips. Not able to help myself, I asked the question that had been gnawing at me since the hospital. “Why did you kiss me earlier?”

  His jaw flexed. “I wanted to know what it would feel like. It was a mistake.” An impassive mask fell across his face. He released my wrist and took a step back.

  Maybe it was the fact that I was dying from a zombie bite or maybe it was all the stress of the day. Whatever the reason, I didn’t want him to push me away again. I was tired of him pretending this electric connection between us didn’t exist. Going for bold, I fisted his dog tags and pulled him back toward me. “Maybe I want to know what it would feel like too?”

  A tremor swept through his body.

  My legs trembled as a desperate ache thrummed through me.

  His head dipped down.

  My insides warmed. Suddenly, I was dying for the taste of cinnamon. I tilted my mouth up to close the distance between our lips.

  Will this kiss be as incredible as our last?

  3

  “Sarge, I could use a hand,” Darcy belted from outside the room.

  Blinking in confusion, I released Dominic’s dog tags.

  He cursed and reared back. A second later, he was wearing his usual stony expression.

  Ebbing desire left my knees weak and my brain fuzzy. Clarity came with each jagged gasp of air.

  What the hell am I thinking? Dominic is the last freaking guy I should be locking lips with.

  As soon as he released me, I collapsed back down into the chair. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my eyes averted as he grabbed his shirt. Another glance at all that bared flesh and I’d lose what little sense I still had.

  Needing to focus on something, anything, other than the half-naked man standing a foot away, I studied the knife-laden tactical vest he’d set on the table. “Don’t you think you need a few more weapons on this?”

  “I could always use another weapon,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. He shrugged on his torn shirt.

  As I counted the knives, I notice a two-inch-long vial of shimmery amber liquid tucked into the inside of the vest. “What’s this?” Fascinated, I leaned over the table to get a better look.

  He followed my gaze, his eyes widening. Moving faster than I could blink, he yanked the vest off the table. “It’s nothing.”

  Reed’s words came back to me. There’s a cure. Dominic has it.

  “If it’s nothing, why are you carrying it around?”

  He grimaced.

  “It’s something I hope I’ll never need,” he finally said, the gruffness in his voice indicating it wasn’t up for further discussion.

  It has to be the cure.

  The realization floored me. This was a game changer.

  I’ll tell Dominic about the bite, and he’ll give me the cure. Life will go on and I’ll be a lot more careful in the future.

  “Dominic, I…” Roger’s face flashed in my mind.

  If Dominic has the cure, why did he kill the infected older man?

  Unless…

  Maybe he’s keeping the cure for himself…

  I eyed him warily. Damn it. I needed to talk to Reed. He seemed to have all the answers.

  Doing my best to disguise the pain in my leg, I tried to get up from the chair. “I’ll go with you and check on Reed.”

  Dominic laid a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’ll see him soon enough. For now you need to stay off that leg until we’re ready to move out.”

  My eyes narrowed. No way was I staying here while Reed lay somewhere injured.

  Dominic held up a single finger when I opened my mouth to argue. “You said you’d follow my orders from here on out?”

  He had me there.

  “I’m ordering you to stay here until I get back,” he said, striding out the doorway.

  Frustration gnawed at me.

  How in the world could I have been about to kiss him?

  He was insufferable. Being tall, dark, and handsome didn’t make up for being a jerk.

  He was exactly the type of alpha male I should avoid. Rough, dominating military men who thought a woman’s role was serving and obeying them.

  Men like my father.

  I shuddered. I wouldn’t make the same mistake as my mother. My leg throbbed in sympathy.

  Checking to see no one was around, I rolled up my jeans and pulled off my sock. Several dark veins radiated out from the teeth punctures in a spiderweb pattern.

  The sight of those veins made my blood run cold. There was no denying it.

  I’m infected.

  I blinked back tears feeling stupid for even hoping that I’d be spared.

  I’m going to die.

  I swallowed hard and tried to push that thought out of my head. I used some of the remaining alcohol swabs to clean the bite. I scrubbed overly hard at those black marks in the ridiculous hope they would wipe clean. Of course they didn’t.

  Knowing Dominic could come back any second, I grabbed the backpack and ferreted through it until I found another bandage. I had my leg wrapped from heel to knee within minutes. No sign of those telltale veins were visible. But that wouldn’t last for long.

  The veins would spread along with the virus. Once they slithered past my neck, I’d have minutes to live. Or so said the frazzled-looking reporter on the last news telecast I’d seen at the safe house before television transmissions ended.

  What else had she said?

  I struggled to remember. Oh yes. The virus wasn’t contagious or active until the host died. Well that made me feel a bit better for the moment of weakness with Dominic. At least I wasn’t putting his life in jeopardy by nearly kissing him.

  At the memory, my treacherous heart fluttered. This didn’t have to be the end of me, or the end of us. There was a cure. Surely, Dominic would offer it to me. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me. The kiss back at the animal hospital and what nearly happened five minutes ago confirmed that.

  My cheeks warmed. If Darcy hadn’t interrupted us, who knows how far we might have gone?

  Would I have handed him my v-card without a second thought?

  That question gave me pause. I’d never been a tenth this sexually attracted to any man. Growing up, my mother’s tragic story ensured I avoided romantic relationships. Only once had I considered going all the way with a guy and I’d been drunk. My gaze flickered to the doorway. The consequences of that night were still haunting me…

  Familial love I could handle. The kind of soul-rendering love that transferred one’s heart, body, and soul to another, I couldn’t.

  My mother’s fate will not be mine. If I get the cure and survive the virus, I’ll get as far away from Dominic as fast as I can.

  My rumbling stomach intruded on my thoughts. All I’d had to eat were a few bites of an energy bar that morning. I looked longingly over at the snack machine. Dominic was sure to order the food packed up and rationed out.

  Deciding that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, I limped over to the junk food and dove in.

  Three bags of chips and two candy bars later, Dominic still hadn’t returned. Neither had anyone else. Every once in a while, I heard muffled voices.

  They have to be nearby.

  As the sun set, shadows shrouded the room. It felt wrong to sit in the ebbing light as the precious few hours remaining of my life trickled away.

  Wiping the orange cheese
stains onto my jeans, I stared at the empty doorway. Dominic should’ve been back by now.

  What if he is lying to me about Reed? What if Reed is dead?

  The thought streaked through me like an icy river. Fear and apprehension knotted my stomach.

  To hell with his orders.

  I was already limping toward the doorway when I heard a cry.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose.

  Have the Biters gotten past the barricades? Crap. Where is everyone?

  Knife in hand, I stumbled into the unlit hallway. The darkness seemed to stretch forever, but eventually it dumped me into an office space barely large enough to accommodate the six cubicles running the length of the room.

  My eyes watered at the overpowering odor of pine. Dominic wasn’t kidding when he said he’d sprayed air fresheners. He must have emptied at least five aerosol cans.

  A wooden desk had been turned on its side and pushed against the glass doors at the front. Pencils and pens were scattered across the black-and-gray carpet. Orange light filtered through the open horizontal blinds of the window casting tiger stripes of shadow and light across the room.

  The sound of a struggle led me to the center cubicle. Unlike the other eight-by-eight workspaces, this one was devoid of personal effects and chairs. Based on the random computer equipment stacked on the desk, it looked as if it’d been used for storage.

  Grady crouched over something near the desk, his back to me. As I got closer I realized Reed’s body lay at his feet. Grady’s hands were around Reed’s throat.

  Outrage roared through me.

  Where the hell are Dominic and Darcy?

  A frantic glance around the cubicles revealed no hint of the soldiers.

  I took position behind Grady and pressed my knife against the back of his neck. “Get your hands off him.”

  Grady froze and released Reed.

  Reed’s body thumped to the ground. Thankfully, his chest rose and fell.

  Grady turned his head slightly. “Heeeey.”

  “Move away from him.” When he didn’t budge, I pressed the knife in harder.

  Blood trickled down his neck. “Okay,” he slurred. He lifted his palms high in the air like he was under arrest.

  “Move,” I said, forcing him to back out of the cubicle.

  When we were out in the open office, I released him.