“How the fuck—” the guy kept protesting. A quick prod with my stick made him shut up.
“Because we’re so fucking special,” I stated.
Nate, ever the spoilsport, explained. “Because she and I have great low-light vision. Comes with getting a little too cozy with the undead at times.”
I was surprised that Nate admitted that; Richards—and thus everyone in the army—must have known about me by now, but even I hadn’t known about Nate before we’d split paths as we’d hid on the destroyer to be later brought to the shore a few states south of the others’ drop-off point.
“What’s your plan?” Scott asked—Nate, of course, because I hadn’t been running this mission so far. But I had to admit, his answer had been the one more instilling trust in someone than mine.
Nate considered. “How far is your forward base away?”
I shrugged, trying to remember. “A few miles outside of their patrol perimeter. Twenty miles?”
Nate made a face, staring back at the ATVs that slowly came closer. “We need those vehicles. At least three of them, four would be better. No shots fired unless we absolutely have to.” A peel of thunder overhead must have let him see me grimace. “You have a stick. Use it.”
So that’s what we did.
Getting the ATVs under our control turned out to be easier than I’d expected. All it took was a few logs—conveniently stacked close by—as a barrier in the middle of the road. As soon as the vehicles stopped, it was bludgeoning time. Whether they’d gotten complacent, or only gone out with one driver and no backup because of the rain, but they were no match for us. I pointedly ignored how Nate didn’t even try to incapacitate first but went straight for the kill. Of course I noticed—how could I not? But only two of the guards ended up breathing when we were done, and shallow enough that they might not live to see another morning. None of that was important. We now had vehicles, and thanks to my previous scouting somewhat of an idea of the terrain—and the direction we needed to be headed—so off we went. I ended up riding with Scott—or he with me, rather, since my better vision made me the designated driver—and Red with Marleen. I hoped that Nate’s shoulders would be okay but trusted him to speak up before he was ready to fall off the vehicle. We absolutely needed the lights; tonight was not the night for stealth. I sure as fuck hoped the ATVs’ batteries would hold out long enough but even if they died on us two miles later, that was still two miles less we’d need to walk.
Lo and behold, fate continued to play nice, and all the ATVs made it out of the zone around the camp. And three hours of getting splashed and endless jostling later, I saw the shine of campfires up ahead, right next to the road we were following. A few tense moments of shouting later—mostly because nobody had expected us to show up for days yet—and we were safely through the perimeter of our forward operational base where Zilinsky, Romanoff, and Martinez were already waiting for us, never mind that it was way past two in the morning with rain still beating down mercilessly on the world. At least the thunder was gone now, and none of us had been struck by lightning.
I was ready to keel over, a weird fog making my brain less than useful, the drugs starting to wear off and exhaustion taking its toll. Or hunger—that I didn’t feel—since I hadn’t had much to eat since morning, I realized. While Zilinsky and Romanoff were busy hugging Nate, I happily accepted a cold bowl of stew from someone and started wolfing it down. Nate—and the others, too, of course—also got some chow, but while he dug into it with gusto, he forced himself to stop about a third of the way through. “Need to give my system some time to adapt,” he explained as he put it away, looking like that was the last thing he wanted to do.
The base camp was pretty much a few tents around an old, dilapidated building, some kind of two-story shop or former apartment building, parts of it fallen in already as it couldn’t have seen much commerce since the ‘60s. It lent some shade during the heat of the day and dry rooms out of the rain now—but that was pretty much it. I couldn’t wait to crawl into a dry corner and get some shut-eye—but everyone else had other ideas.
I could tell that everyone and their mother wanted a sitrep update, but Nate cut that short three questions in, raising his voice to shut everyone up. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but unless it can’t wait for another thirty minutes, I really need some alone-time with my wife right now.”
Several people actually looked chagrined, and Andrej’s chuckle was well-representing the rest. “Take forty-five. It’s been a while for you both.” I couldn’t help but grin, although I had a feeling that wasn’t Nate’s intention for that ask. Nate’s glare made Andrej chuckle harder, but murmurs from all around offered that they had other things to do, anyway—like sleep, in the middle of the night.
Turning to the Ice Queen, Nate instructed, “Have everyone who needs to be part of discussions ready in fifty minutes. The rest can stand down for now but we will be on the move soon after.”
She acknowledged that with a nod and already turned to bark orders—if at muted volume—at people all around. Nate cast another longing look at the food but instead grabbed my arm and pulled me into the building, down the corridor that Pia had indicated where we’d find a few empty rooms. Far was it from me to protest.
Chapter 23
I barely made it through the door before Nate grabbed me and had me pressed against the sturdy wood, his hands everywhere and his mouth devouring mine. My mind was lagging behind several steps—only after a few seconds coming to the conclusions that no, we weren’t going to talk first—but my body was very enthusiastically on board. I was very happy to shed the dirty, stinking, drenched clothes I’d later burn with gusto, and wrap myself around his strong, taut body, enticingly warm as it was, to reacquaint myself with everything that was familiar and discover every bump and scar that was new.
Someone had been thoughtful enough to leave some blankets and sleeping bags on the floor which quickly got repurposed. Frantic was the best way to describe it, and while I was very much on board with forgetting about all the time we’d spent apart, my mind finally did jump-start once more. I didn’t mind being on my back underneath him but there was the matter of Nate’s shoulders.
“Wanna switch?” I offered when I needed to come up for air.
Nate, clearly starving for more than food, was making me laugh—and moan—by kissing and licking his way down the column of my throat in the meantime, if anything annoyed at having to divert his attention to answer the question. He only stopped briefly to catch my gaze, his weight held up steady by his arms left and right of my face. “I’ll let you know before I have to tap out,” he growled, capturing my lips with his before I could come up with a response that wasn’t required nor wanted. Fine by me. I was more than happy to abuse my position to let my hands roam down his back and reach for him—
Only that he shifted, leaving my lips and neck in favor of my breasts, then moving further down—and my mind was back at it again. “Uh, just saying. I haven’t had a chance to shower or properly bathe in three weeks,” I told the top of his head, currently getting busy between my spread legs.
His fingers dug deeper into my thighs—not that I’d tried to get away; I was too selfish for that, and quite too needy as well—holding me right where he wanted me. “Don’t fucking care,” he murmured against me and set to work—and, what could I say? It had been months, he was even more enthusiastic about this than usual, and the damn drugs did their thing to make it very easy to let go. And let go again because apparently absence not only made the heart grow fonder but also the damn bastard more ambitious than usual, leaving me panting and lightheaded, and thoroughly satisfied, when he kissed his way up my body once more.
“You smell so fucking delicious,” he whispered into my ear—and at the same time thrust into me, deep and hard and hitting all the right spots to turn me into a whimpering mess all over again. No longer restricted by him holding me in place, I was happy to match his pace as I half wrapped myself around him, hal
f moved against him to maximize friction in all the right places. It felt so fucking amazing but at the same time a part deep inside of me couldn’t get enough, as if the time we’d lost needed to be made up for right this very second which was impossible on so many levels. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines—or maybe it was his shoulders protesting which kept him distracted too much—because just as I was about to lose it again, he flipped me over and onto my side so that he was spooning me with his entire body from behind, letting us both stretch out and relax but also kept our hands free. Well, mine weren’t free for long as he pulled me flush against him, using his lower hand to grab my wrists and keep them there, while his legs entwined with mine. Just as he pushed into me from behind, his fingers were back between my thighs, strumming and stroking in perfect sync with—
Turning my face into his shoulder, I bit the inside of my cheek hard not to cry out loud enough to wake every sleeping asshole in camp, the dichotomy of pure lust and need on one side and feeling so wonderfully safe and warm and close to him on the other wiping my mind clear of thought and reason. And the same—in reverse—must have been true for him as well as it didn’t take him much longer to finish, ending with us both lost in satisfaction…
Until I realized that it wasn’t sweat—or rainwater, coming in somewhere—that was dripping into the hair at the back of my head. That he wasn’t just holding me in place because he was a teasing asshole or for convenience, but pretty much clung to me like I was his rock and he was about to be swept away by the rough seas. With an iron fist slamming closed around my heart, I listened into the dark room, but besides our slowly evening-out breaths there were no further clues—no surprise since I was convinced Nate would rather die than sob once—but I didn’t need further confirmation to draw the right conclusions.
My body might still be swimming in a cloud of endorphins and happiness, but my mind ground to a sudden hold, deepest apprehension warring with confusion and frustration.
Fuck.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that we’d been at this exact moment before, only with our roles reversed. I now perfectly understood his frustration—with the circumstances, but also with me—after they’d picked me up from that blasted settlement in Nebraska after Taggard and his boys had kidnapped me, and words had been the most insufficient thing in the world.
I had no fucking clue what to say now.
I was a little surprised when, of all possible things, it was an echo of what he’d said to me then that made it over my lips. “You know that you can tell me everything, right? It won’t make a difference for me.”
I more felt than heard him laugh—and it was definitely not a mirth-filled outburst. “You wouldn’t say that if you had the whole picture.”
I considered but only for a moment. “There aren’t many things that you could have actively done that would leave me horrified beyond what we could come back from. Together. And you know, I have a vivid imagination.”
He remained silent for way too long to leave me feeling comfortable, but finally relaxed enough for me to turn around, not extricating myself from his arms but needing to be able to look him in the face. My heart seized up seeing his eyes slightly red, staring at me with a kind of desperation that I’d never seen before—fear of rejection.
Nate cleared his throat noisily, but didn’t look away. “How about you tell me how you got away from there the first time, and I tell you how I knew you had gotten away?” he proposed, his voice cracking slightly. My turn to talk first. Fuck if my brain was ready to find the right words—but this I could do.
“Not really much of a story,” I offered, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “The last thing I remember seeing was you lying there, tied up, completely helpless. And just so you know, even when you spend a shitload of time in solitary confinement, you get a chance to hear people talk. I know what their so-called kennels are.”
“Then you probably know more than I do,” I bit out, a little too sharply, but seeing the spark of annoyance in his eyes actually made me relax a little. “There’s really not much to tell. They drugged me with some shit—might be the same they shot me up with tonight, I really can’t say—”
“They are big on chemicals,” he interjected. “Their chief chemist gets bored easily.” Now that sounded like a story I both wanted to hear but really not at the same time. The light the discarded flashlight in the corner cast was creating weird shadows all over the room, but was by far enough that it would have been impossible to miss the track marks in the crooks of his elbows—and considering the rate of healing we both had going on, that must be from the past week only.
Distraction, right.
“Anyway, when they caught us, we must have done a good job killing a few of them because one of those that dragged us in had a score to settle with me. They were stupid enough not to properly tie my hands but used flimsy handcuffs. Then that idiot was even more stupid and started beating me up first, which sent my adrenaline into overdrive, and the rest is bloody history. I don’t really remember much after I killed him, it’s all pretty hazy. I woke up the next morning in a tree, covered in blood that mostly wasn’t mine, still not wearing any pants. Apparently, drugged-out me had other priorities.” No laughing at my bad joke from either of us, so I shrugged and resumed. “Took me some time to find water, food, and clothes. I tried to get close to the camp but the patrols were too tight. I stumbled onto their fields to the north but didn’t find you there. I didn’t want to leave but it was obvious that I needed help to get you out of there. So I hoofed it to the next settlement, hitched a ride, did a lot of bullshitting and grandstanding, and here we are.”
Some of the disquiet had left his expression after hearing about my almost clean get-away, but I could tell that he was aware this was the heavily edited version.
“How did you get people from all over the armed forces to work together? I know two of the guards from the Silo, and I don’t quite see Richards deserting.”
I was tempted to point out that I’d already answered one question but since this was kind of important, I was happy to give him some leeway there—besides the fact that I didn’t want to hear his answer.
“Pia managed to organize some kind of pow-wow between us, the Silo marines, Scott and his super fancy operators, and Richards brought some of his guys as well. Which reminds me—why the fuck did you never tell me that you were playing drop-off dump with him? They picked me up a day after I made it to the next settlement. Would have been great to know I could count on that.”
As expected, my criticism bounced right off him. “Because I was hoping to hell that we’d never see him ever again,” he supplied, grimacing. “I needed a loophole, some kind of backdoor entrance. I knew that between Martinez and Burns, Zilinsky would have known who to track down if she needed to reach us, and I trusted Richards the most to do the same if our people got into some serious shit.” He pointedly didn’t answer my question, but for once, I let it slide.
“It was a smart move,” I admitted. “And no, I wasn’t overly surprised that you set that up.”
“Of course you weren’t,” he replied. “You’re a smart cookie if you want to be.”
That made me squint at him. “Exactly how drugged up are you if you use terms like ‘cookie’ to refer to this fine piece of ass?”
He gave that some thought—way too much, really. “Moderately so, I’d say,” he assessed. “They always give us some crap or other before a fight. To keep things interesting, you know?”
I had no idea what to respond to that, and after a few seconds, Nate caught his lower lip between his teeth, stalling further—but then let out a loud exhale as he sagged deeper into the sleeping bag, stretching out in what wasn’t really working as far as relaxation went. “I presume I won’t get away with not telling you anything? I know how morbid your ideas can get. This time you’ll probably get most of it right just guessing.”
My, didn’t that sound nic
e. I considered my words carefully, or as much as my addled mind would let me. “You don’t have to. I get that you don’t want to. I really do. And I’m not giving you some bullshit now like it will all be so much better if you share. But, you know—maybe you should tell someone. Doesn’t have to be me. Can be Zilinsky or Romanoff, too. Or Martinez. But I’d really like to know why the new number one on my shit list deserves to be there.”
Nate’s brows rose slightly. “You’re giving up your vendetta to defend my honor? Did you actually grow as a person and mature while I was gone?”
“Very funny.” I wondered briefly how much he’d heard about the state of the world in general. “Hamilton’s dead, so the top spot is vacant right now. I think my potential for emotional growth bottomed out around the time you told me to stop being offended about stereotyping cars. And things have gone pretty much to hell since we bugged out.”
He took the news of his former friend’s demise without a single blink. I couldn’t imagine the news was jarring to him. “How bad is it out there?”
“Bad. What we tried to support all went to shit, except the large settlements in Utah and Wyoming. New Angeles is strong but cut off from the outside world—their choice. A lot of what used to be scavengers like us are the drugged-out asshole road pirates that are probably your biggest fans. Harris is one of them, but he helped us get in so I’m a little torn about placing judgment right now. Because Rita was at the meeting, too, and Dispatch is a bust. She didn’t send a single box of ammo with us. So much for old flames of yours and support.”
Nate snorted. “Well, Marleen is here, which I absolutely didn’t expect. For her to survive, sure, but not show her face anywhere ever again.” He paused for a second. “You know that she and I—”
“Yup,” I quipped, cutting him off before he got any further. “She also banged Richards, just so you know. No hard feelings; she and I are getting along splendidly.”
Green Fields (Book 10): Uprising: Page 35