What Remains_Reckoning (9 page)

Wolfe slipped out the door, disappearing into the darkness. Gunner’s stomach tightened, the familiar fear that he’d lose the other man burning red-hot in his gut. It appeared the guys had been right. They were already interconnected in a way he’d never realized before. And he knew he’d do whatever it took to push his usual tendencies aside. Focus on the bigger picture—one that promised to be more than worth the sacrifice.

“Hey.”

Hamilton’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts. He glanced over, giving the man a raise of his head.

“There’s a bed in the back. Take it. I’ll stay out here with Morgan. Couch is probably as comfy as that old mattress anyway. And I don’t want to risk waking her now that she’s finally sleeping.”

Gunner studied her face. How had he missed the way her long, dark lashes rested against her pale skin, making her eyes seem bigger? Or how her lips pursed into a sexy little pout when she slept? She’d curled into the fetal position, one hand tucked beneath her head, her long hair tousled about her shoulders. She looked beautiful. Stunning in fact.

Hamilton smiled at him when he finally focused back on the man’s face. “I know. And it’s pointless trying to fight it. Maybe it’s because we’ve been fighting for so long, or because we see how desperate the world has become. Or maybe we just never gave anyone a chance. Whatever the reason, it’s high time we stopped running from what matters the most.”

Gunner snorted. “We barely know her. Hell, all she’s really told us is her name. And just her first.”

“Some of our best adventures were spontaneous. Besides, the world isn’t the same. None of us know how long we can survive. And I’d rather spend what time I have left with her in my arms than worry about it happening too fast. We’re SEALs. We thrive on fast.”

“Can’t argue with that, dude.” He gave Ham a pat on the shoulder as he walked past on his way to the bedroom. “Okay. We’ll give her a chance. See what she thinks of us. If she even wants to consider a more intimate relationship. Either way, she’s ours to protect. And I’m not about to fail this mission.”

“Booyah.”

“Hell yeah.”

Gunner marched into the bedroom, leaving the door open as he collapsed on the mattress, ignoring the springs that poked into his back. Though he knew he’d hear anything even with the door closed, he had a sudden urge to be closer to Morgan. And somehow shutting her and Hamilton out felt wrong. It was bad enough Wolfe was outside. Gunner didn’t need to feel disconnected from Ham, too.

The thought made him pause as he examined the implications more thoroughly. “Ah, fuck.”

Hamilton laughed from the other room. “I told you we’d become a family long before Morgan appeared. But go ahead and pretend we’re all just figuring that out now.”

“You really are an ass, Ham.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, bro. Sleep well.”

“Right. Sleep. In a cabin in the woods while we wait to see if some crazy, redneck Deputy might come looking for us because we took away his prize. And that’s not even considering the zombies roaming the forest. What a great idea.”

“Nothing’s getting past Wolfe. Sleep. I can take next watch.”

“I’ll take it. You just keep Morgan safe and relaxed. She needs the rest far more than we do. And I hate to think of her waking up alone and scared.”

“Fine. But if the shit hits the fan…”

“You’ll be the first one I get to start shoveling.”

“Fair enough.” His voice paused for a moment. “Night John Boy.”

“Night jackass.”

Chapter Six

“You know, Morgan, the more you fight me, the harder I get.” Beau flashed her a sickening smile as he leaned against the door to his room. “In fact, there’s nothing I’d like more than to handcuff you to this bed and spend a couple of days fucking you into submission. And if you’re half the wildcat in the sack that you are out of it, I might just have to keep you for myself… At least for a while. Maybe until you’re pregnant. I know some of the other guys get off screwing knocked-up chicks.”

Morgan palmed her hands to her head, trying to make the words and images disappear. This couldn’t be right. Hadn’t she escaped the compound? Left Beau and his psychotic torture behind?

“What’s wrong,
darlin
? Not in the mood? Gonna try and kick my ass again?”

That voice—the grating tone that reminded her of glass crunching beneath shoes. She couldn’t get it out of her head. The way he taunted her. Described in nauseating detail how he wanted to fuck her. The toys he wanted to use, not that any of them sounded as if they’d be at all pleasurable for her. But she’d discovered the truth about him far too late. Now all she could do was fight.

Morgan stared at the man. She’d known Beau and his family for twenty years, ever since her parents had settled in the small town. She’d suspected he was different from the start, her protective instincts always on high alert whenever he was around. Though he’d asked her out—repeatedly—she’d always found a way to turn him down without hurting his feelings. Or so she’d thought. But as she stared into his gray eyes, dilated with his obvious arousal, she wondered if the bastard felt anything at all.

She widened her stance, prepared to strike out if he so much as twitched a muscle. “This isn’t foreplay, Beau. And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow you to rape me. ‘Cause that’s what this is. Rape.” She cocked her head at him. “Wasn’t it your job to prevent that from happening? To protect the women in town? Or has law enforcement changed with the rising of the dead?”

He laughed, a raspy sound that made her skin crawl. “That world is long gone, Morgan. This is a new age. A new fate. And it’s up to us to reclaim what’s left… Make it what it used to be—only better. Pure.”

“Pure? You fucked-up prick. You’re raping women under the guise of some holier-than-thou destiny.”

“I never said anything about God. This isn’t the second coming of Jesus. It’s the age of man. The kind that knows a woman’s place. And it starts in my bed.”

He lunged at her, obviously thinking his bigger size and strength would be enough to grapple her onto the mattress. But she dodged his attempt, using a quick kick to his ribs to knock him away. He twisted in an effort to regain his balance, clipping a small table as he tripped. Wood cracked against the impact, the small bowl on top clattering to the floor.

Beau grunted, cursing as he slammed into the wall. He raised his shirt and glared at the red welt already blossoming on his ribs. Anger deepened the color of his eyes, making them look like dark pits in his face. “You’ll pay for that one.”

He attacked, using his strength to wear down her defenses. She blocked his initial swings, landing a few punches of her own before he caught her across the jaw, toppling her onto the bed. Dark spots swam across her vision as she tried to roll away, only to feel the weight of his body covering hers.

She shook her head, clawing at his face as he hovered over her, leaving a string of red-tinged lines down his cheek. He growled, punching her hard in the side of the head. Speckled lights filled her head as her eyes closed from the impact, rolling nausea through her gut.

“You will be mine, Morgan. One way or another.”

She spat at his face, bringing her knee up and connecting firmly with his crotch. He hollered this time, landing several more hits to her head and ribs before she stopped resisting, an odd ringing in her ears drawing her under. Her name echoed in the distance as cold hands circled her neck, the tension on her windpipe sparking one last futile effort. She grabbed weakly at the bastard’s wrists, knowing she didn’t have the strength to pull him off, but determined to die trying. There was a moment of intense pressure in her lungs as they strove to draw in air then darkness.

“Morgan!”

Strong arms shook her shoulders, a collection of voices sounding in the distance. Morgan fought against the firm grip, thrashing out against the weight still holding her down. She couldn’t surrender. Couldn’t live with the knowledge he’d beaten her.

“Morgan! Wake up!”

Her eyelids flew open, the shadowed silhouette bending over her tearing a scream from deep within her. She swung her arm, connecting with something far stronger than she’d expected as she wrestled out of the blanket and off the couch, surging to her feet in a billow of white cotton. The room dipped and rolled, and she braced her arm against the sofa as she tripped a couple of steps backwards. Pain spiked through her ribs, stealing what little breath she’d been able to draw and she swayed against the sudden rush of vertigo.

“Easy. It’s just us. Hamilton, Wolfe and Gunner. Don’t you remember?”

She caught herself on the wall before she completely lost her balance, shouldering her weight against it in an effort to remain standing as she blinked away the fuzzy feeling in her head. Three men stood next to the couch, concern furrowing their brows as their gazes darted from each other to her. Sunlight streamed in through the windows behind them, the sparse surroundings finally triggering a series of images—Bobby hitting her with the baton. Hamilton shielding her body with his. The other men helping her escape.

The pictures spun inside her head, not complete but enough to ease the painful pounding of her heart. They were at the cabin. Beau and his deranged compound nothing more than a cloud of dust in a rear-view mirror.

Hamilton took a step forward, frowning when she instinctively retreated, moving along the wall, her upper body still leaning on the surface for strength. His gaze raked down her body, settling on her side. Something akin to anger then pain flashed in his eyes, another much stronger emotion burning the brown depths into a deep umber as he raised his focus to her face.

He tilted his head, the look he gave her clearly ordering her to stay still as he stepped forward again then stopped, seemingly waiting to see if she’d follow his unspoken request or retreat like before. Her head told her to move, but somehow her feet didn’t get the message. Instead, she stood her ground, simply staring at the three men.

A tentative smile lifted half his mouth, and he inched closer, finally reaching for her hand. “You had a nightmare, but it’s over. There’s no one else here. Just the four of us. Wolfe’s set up some perimeter alarms, and we’ve all been taking turns watching for any vehicles. You’re safe.”

She snorted at the idea, the sound morphing into a throaty moan as another stabbing pain flared in her side. Her bravado faltered as she fought to remain upright. Fuck Bobby and his damn stun baton, not to mention the kick she vaguely recalled. She should have tasered his ass—hell, his dick for that matter. Given him something to remember her by.

Hamilton’s frown deepened. “You’re in pain.”

He released her fingers, snagging the hem of her shirt when she snapped back to her senses, twisting away. The sudden movement dropped her to her knees, and she leaned her forehead against the side of the couch as she tried to get her lungs to inflate past the searing ache. She glanced at her side, half expecting smoke to curl up from beneath her shirt, but all she could see was a patch of blood on the fabric.

A sigh sounded beside her before Hamilton’s face appeared next to her. “Morgan. I know this is all new to you, and that you really don’t have enough reasons to trust us yet. But I promise you… We just want to take a look at your ribs. Bobby hit you a few times with that damn baton, followed by a nasty boot. I’m sure you didn’t survive this long by making poor choices like pretending there’s nothing wrong.” He offered her his hand. “Please?”

She stared at his palm, noting the row of calluses and scars. He’d obviously done his fair share of hard work, the evidence showcased by the marks. The thought soothed some of the raw fear weighing on her mind, and she finally laced her fingers through his, allowing him to all but lift her off the ground. She leaned against him, gasping at the play of hard muscles against her good side as he helped her to the couch, seating her beside him. Then he opened his thighs and eased her back, resting her spine along the length of his torso. Surrounding her in warm, male heat.

She tensed at the close contact, once again fighting against the need to break free and bolt from the cabin. It’d been a couple of years since she’d welcomed a man’s touch, with more than a few forced encounters haunting her mind in the spaces between. And after all she’d endured to avoid becoming another notch on Beau’s bedpost, lying against Hamilton seemed like a slippery slope she couldn’t afford to walk.

The man’s breath coasted across her neck, sending a confusing rush of need to her core. Shivers chased each other down her spine, but in a good way. Making her feel alive. Human.

“Easy. I can feel you tensing. I’m not going to touch you more than it takes to see how bad that motherfucker hurt you.”

God, she damn near said, ‘which one,’ managing to snap her mouth shut before revealing more than she wanted. More than she should. This wasn’t a permanent arrangement. As soon as she felt better, she was gone. Confiding in them wouldn’t change what had happened. And the less they knew the less complicated things got.

Hamilton’s face brushed across her neck, igniting another round of shivers. “We can sit here as long as it takes for you to relax. Hell, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

She chuckled at his tone, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. The man looked even more handsome in the sunlight, with shaggy brown hair and a smile that could make a woman orgasm on sight. The other two were equally stunning. Wolfe’s blond hair sat in a spiky mess atop his head, the golden color highlighting the clear blue of his eyes. He looked slightly larger than Hamilton, his muscles straining every inch of the tee beneath his open jacket. Like Ham, he’d centered his gaze on her side, the edges of his luscious mouth turned down slightly.

She wondered why they seemed so upset by her injury when Gunner stepped in front of her. She cranked her head back, barely able to see the top of his head as he loomed over her. Taller than the others, his body seemed leaner—more like an elite runner with tightly coiled muscles and a taut, wiry frame. He wore his hair longer than his friends, the sandy locks reaching down past his shoulders. Hazel eyes and perfectly sculpted lips completed the picture as he knelt in front of her, a first aid kit clasped in his fingers.