Graham shot up in bed as his radio came to life with a crackle of static. He scrubbed his hands over his face and reached out to snag it off the nightstand. Normally he jumped out of bed at every creak. At the moment, he felt like he’d just woken up from a coma. When he looked at the bed and saw Ro curled between Zach and the indent he’d just left on the bed, he remembered the cause of his uncharacteristically deep sleep. Fuck. That woman was something else.
“Be advised, we’ve got a sensor that just tripped near the main gate. Southeast corner. Alex, what’s your twenty?” Cam’s voice came through the radio.
“I’m headed in that direction right now, coming down the east fence line. I think I see movement …”
“What’s going on man?” Zach asked as he reached for his radio and rolled out of bed.
“Not sure. Let’s go check it out,” Graham replied, shoving his legs into his cargos and snagging a t-shirt from the floor.
“And here I was hoping for another round—” Zach started to say. But the radio cut him off.
“We got company, boys. Three. Looks like Duck Dynasty rejects. You want me to engage or wait on backup? Never mind. Fuck. They’ve got bolt cutters and are cutting through the fence. I’m going in,” Alex finished.
Graham pressed the button his radio. “Do not engage. Wait for backup. You don’t know what they’re carrying. We’re headed your way. Be there ASAP.”
“I’m not waiting for them to get in here, G. I can’t stand for that,” Alex argued.
“Shut the fuck up and stand down.”
Graham shot a glance at Ro, who was wide-awake and wide-eyed at the radio chatter. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t know. Get some clothes on. I’m going to check this shit out. Zach will take you to mess hall and get you locked up tight with Allison.”
He gave her a quick kiss and handed her the backup sidearm he kept in the nightstand, and then he was out the door.
As soon a Graham left the cabin, his radio blared to life again.
“They’re inside the fence. I can take them out,” Alex reported.
“I’m in the southwest corner and coming your way, man,” Ty replied.
Shit. Graham was closer. He’d get to Alex way before Ty. It wasn’t that Alex couldn’t handle himself, but he’d shoot first and ask questions later. And Graham wanted answers more than he wanted dead bodies.
Graham headed to the armory and grabbed an M4. They were all going to have to start carrying them everywhere. Just like they had when they were deployed. He hated that they had to take that kind of precaution in their home, but it was better than the alternative: being caught with their pants down and getting fucked up the ass. Cam was holding down the command post when Graham ducked his head inside.
“Who else is on watch?”
“Travis. But he’s way the fuck out on the north edge.”
A shotgun blast ripped through the silence of the morning.
Neither Alex nor Ty carried a shotgun.
“Fuck!” Graham yelled. “Alex, sitrep!”
The sharp report of a rifle was the only response. Two shots. Another shotgun blast. And then silence.
It was a bad fucking sign when a Marine didn’t keep firing until he emptied his magazine. Unless Alex was taking cover. He might finally be listening to Graham, though he knew it was unlikely.
“Sitrep!” Graham yelled into his radio, and he took off toward the bolt hole. He didn’t want the main gate open at a time like this.
No answer.
Fuck.
When he reached the wall to slide the metal bar and swing the door open, Jamie and Beau were right behind him.
Graham led, melting into the woods and moving silently toward the location of the breach. As soon as he heard voices, he halted, holding up a fist.
“He dead, Mel?”
An icy mantle settled over Graham. The one he donned every time he knew he was about to kill.
“I dunno, Len. Dwayne, check and see,” a man, presumably Mel, grunted. “That fucker shot me in the goddamn shoulder. Twice. He better be fucking dead. You better fucking shoot him in the goddamn head.”
Graham moved soundlessly toward the voices, knowing Beau and Jamie followed directly behind him. He caught sight of three camo-and-flannel-clad figures, one using his shotgun to nudge Alex’s prone form. Blood dripped from Alex’s head—a small puddle had formed in the dirt. Another man was reaching down to check a pulse. The one with a dark spot expanding on the upper right corner of his flannel shirt pulled out a revolver from his waistband.
“Fuck it. I’m shooting him anyway.”
Graham lifted his rifle, and before the man could pull back the hammer, Graham unleashed a spray of bullets. The man dropped where he stood. Another man with scraggily dark hair swung around and lifted the shotgun. Jamie and Graham fired, and he crumpled. The third took off on a dead run, but Graham didn’t give chase. He dropped to his knees beside Alex. Beau was checking his carotid for a pulse.
“He’s alive.”
A burst of rifle fire had Graham whipping his head around, gun at the ready. Nothing. He glanced back to Beau, who was pulling on nitrile gloves and checking for injuries. He unzipped his kit and pulled out a clotting sponge to stop the bleeding from the head wound. Beau carefully lifted Alex’s black t-shirt, and Graham could see the divots where the shot pellets had impacted the body armor. Thank fucking Christ.
Graham turned his attention back to the surrounding forest.
“Why is he unconscious? Why the fuck is he bleeding so damn bad from his head? He got shot in the chest. Where else?” Visions of another man lying bloody in the dirt surged to the forefront of Graham’s memory.
“No gunshot wounds. And I’m not one hundred percent certain, but he might have been diving to miss the shot and cracked his head on this.”
Graham glanced back to see Beau holding up a fist-sized rock. Relief was a tidal wave sweeping through him.
The crunch of boots had the wave evaporating in a millisecond. Graham and Beau raised their M4s. Jamie. The rifles lowered. He was alone. No prisoner in tow.
“Where’s the third one?” Graham demanded. “Dead?”
“Gone, G. I don’t have a fucking clue how he got away from me. I think I winged him, though. It was crazy; he was there, and then he was just fucking gone. The trail just died out.” Jamie shook his head.
“Did you see any signs of anyone else?”
“No, but we need to fix the fence,” Jamie replied.
“He okay?” Ty called, hauling ass toward them. Graham lowered the rifle he’d instinctively sighted in on the man.
“Probably,” Beau replied. “But he’s knocked the fuck out. Let’s get him back to the clinic. Be nice to have someone bring a backboard out.”
Graham nodded. “Ty, get back to your loop. I’ll get Ryan to take Alex’s shift. Let Travis know that he needs to stay on his loop.” Graham lifted his radio. “Ryan, I need you to get out here and take Alex’s shift. And bring a backboard. Zach, give the women the all-clear, but have them stay inside, you copy?”
“Copy that, G. Be there in three with a backboard,” Ryan replied.
Then Jamie asked, “What should we do with the bodies?”
As soon as they’d helped Allison, Grace, Ro, and Lia from the bunker beneath the mess hall, Jonah and Zach took off, but not before reinforcing the order that Graham had given over the radio. They were to stay inside, with the doors locked, until further notice. Ro once again sat on a stool in the kitchen, watching as Allison worked on salvaging breakfast, although they weren’t certain anyone would actually stop to eat it. Grace played with a doll on the floor. Lia sat on the floor next to her, arms wrapped around her knees. The foray into the bunker had been Lia’s first trip out of the infirmary. Cam had broken protocol and left the command post to bundle her up and bring her to the mess hall to be stashed with the other women. Lia was still in rough shape, and shied away from everyone except Grace and Cam. When Jonah had reached a hand out to steady her on the ladder coming out of the bunker, she’d jumped back down to the bunker floor and wouldn’t climb a single rung until he’d backed off.
Zach and Jonah had stayed outside to stand guard when the women had been sealed away in the bunker. Ro couldn’t help feeling like they’d consigned them to a terrible fate when Allison had hit the actuator and lowered the hydraulic hatch. As Ro hadn’t gotten a look at the bunker under the range, she wasn’t certain how it compared as far as size. She had been shocked to see a porthole-style door—the type one would see on a Navy ship—at one end of the large room. According to Allison, when unsealed, it led to a tunnel that linked four underground bunkers together—the ones beneath the gun range and the mess hall, and then one beneath the infirmary, and one beneath the command post. Each had a separate door that sealed it off from the tunnels in the event one of the bunkers was breached. It was mind-boggling even to Ro, and she had grown up with a father who lived and breathed this type of preparedness. He’d love this place. They’d built an underground community that somewhat mirrored the one above. Kitchen, bathrooms, showers, bunkrooms, medical supplies, communications equipment, and every kind of other supply that Ro could imagine. When she asked Allison how and when this had been set up, Allison informed her that the bunker beneath the mess hall had originally been built as a bomb shelter during World War II, and the others had been added during the ‘50s. Graham’s uncle, a WWII and Korea vet, had stumbled upon them when he’d purchased the camp and modernized them. From what Allison had been told, the man may have had a somewhat irrational fear of a nuclear attack on U.S. soil. But having grown up with Rick Callahan, things like that didn’t faze Ro.
The women waited anxiously for a report on Alex. The call for a backboard wasn’t good, but that meant he was alive, right?
Waiting gave Ro time to think back on the night before. And what a night it had been. Her mind had been blown—at least for the ninety-some seconds she’d stayed conscious after the most intense sexual experience of her life. Both Graham and Zach had cleaned her up and then cuddled her between them. She’d fallen asleep with Graham wrapped around her from behind and her head resting on Zach’s chest.
The rude awakening of the radio left something to be desired, but it also saved Rowan from what she figured could have been an awkwardly embarrassing morning. After all, what exactly was proper etiquette for dealing with the guys who’d double-teamed you the night before? In the real world, pre-grid down scenario, if this had happened (and Ro excluded that time it almost had), Ro would have grabbed her clothes, not bothered to search for her panties, and gotten the hell on to the walk of shame. Hopefully avoiding any awkward conversations. But now, well, hell. She didn’t know what this was. It wasn’t a relationship, because it wasn’t going to last, but she also couldn’t just avoid them. The compound was only so big. And she still wasn’t supposed to be walking. But she had been—down in the bunker during that excruciating half-hour of radio silence. Ro was a pacer by nature, and she couldn’t help herself. On the upside, her ankle felt surprisingly good. By tomorrow morning, she should be good to go. Which was great, but also sucked at the same time. She’d like to blame her damn-near instant and unshakeable attachment on the whole end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it vibe, but she wasn’t sure if that was it. She’d never met a guy like Zach or Graham before, and when you put them together, they were unmatched.
If she got them to agree that she was good to travel, she’d be seeing Erica and her dad in two, maybe three, more days. But that also meant she only had two or three days left with Graham and Zach. But it wasn’t like there was another choice available to her. She couldn’t stay. She knew—absolutely knew—that her dad and sister were waiting for her. And she wasn’t going to let them down again. This wasn’t like last Christmas Eve when she had to pick up the phone to say no, she wasn’t coming home for Christmas, because she had to be at the office prepping for a December 27 closing. The worst part about it was they weren’t that surprised … because she’d done it on Thanksgiving … and Erica’s birthday … and her dad’s birthday … and she was a horrible daughter and sister who’d forgotten what was important in life: her family. Had the firm stood behind her when the shit rolled downhill with the Evelyn-Charles incident? Nope. Did she ever have to worry that her family wouldn’t stand behind her? Nope. Would you have to worry about Graham and Zach standing behind you?
“Irrelevant,” Ro said aloud.
“What?” Allison asked.
“Nothing. I’m just going out of my mind not being able to be useful. Please, put me to work.”
Allison directed her to crack and scramble eggs, although only a fraction of the amount she normally cooked. The mess hall stayed quiet, so the women helped themselves to breakfast and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
By the time six o’clock had rolled around, Ro was about to lose it. If the mess hall hadn’t had its own bathroom, she would’ve defied their explicit orders long before now. As it was, she couldn’t sit around any longer. They were baking a few pies, because they’d keep, and there was a large pot of white chicken chili warming on the stove. None of the men had stopped to eat lunch, and so far, none had shown for dinner. Allison surmised that if they’d eaten at all, it would have been the MREs they had stashed in nearly every building on the property. She opened a cupboard to demonstrate. It was filled with boxes of instant entrees like beef stew, sloppy joes, spaghetti with meat sauce, chili with beans, and more peanut butter Power Bars. Nearly the same selection that Ro’s dad had included in her backpack. Probably what she’d be eating starting tomorrow. Hopefully.
Finally, someone banged on the back door. Ro didn’t think before she hopped off her stool and rushed toward the door. She didn’t make it two steps before Lia grabbed a knife from the counter and held Ro back with an outstretched arm. Graham swung the door open. He froze on the threshold, causing Zach and Jonah to stumble into him.
Graham held both hands up. “Whoa, honey. We’re the good guys.”
Ro laid a hand over Lia’s on the hilt of the butcher knife. “It’s okay. They’re not going to hurt anyone.” She eased the knife out of Lia’s grip. “It’s okay.”
Lia spun, fleeing into the mess hall. They all watched through the serving window as she fumbled with the lock and raced out the front door.
No one spoke for a moment, and Ro laid the knife on the kitchen counter.
“I’ll go after her. Jonah, take Grace,” Allison said. She pushed the little girl toward her father and bustled toward the front door of the mess hall.
Graham and Zach strode into the kitchen. “You okay?” Zach asked.
“It’s been completely uneventful. Well … until just now.”
“Then what the hell are you doing on your feet, woman?” Graham swept her up and carried her into the dining area, settling her into a chair.
“I’m fine, really. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow.” She pulled up her pant leg—clean jeans that had finally dried—and showed off the barely swollen state of her ankle. “See?”
Graham’s gaze flicked to Zach and then back at Rowan. Ro couldn’t judge his expression, because it was one she’d never seen before.
“What? Is Alex okay? Is someone else hurt?”
“No, he’s fine. Everyone’s good,” Zach reassured her.
“Then … what’s going on? You want Beau to tell you I’m all better? You just get him in here; he’ll agree with me.”
And then Graham dropped the bomb.
“It doesn’t matter what Beau says. You’re not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”
Ro struggled to comprehend the words that were coming out of Graham’s mouth.
“I don’t understand. You’re taking me home as soon as I’m good to go.”
Graham paced, and Zach leaned against the counter next to her. Graham spun and trapped her gaze.
“Things change, Ro. It’s simple cause and effect. The shit that went down this morning means that you aren’t leaving.”
“But …”
“But nothing. We’ve got a man down, we need to increase our patrols and stay vigilant. One of those assholes got away, and for all we know, there could be more. They’re the same guys from yesterday. For some reason, they want in here real bad. And they’re not going to be the only ones. So I can’t spare anyone, myself included, to escort you home.”
Ro felt like a shrink, cataloging her reactions as they bolted through her: surprise, betrayal, anger, understanding, and then ice cold resolve. It was almost like the five stages of grief. Or something.
“I can’t risk the safety of everyone I’m responsible for just to take you home.” Graham spun away and stalked to the windows, fist clenching by his side.
“Tell me one thing, Graham,” Ro started, proud that her voice was even and devoid of emotion. “With the way shit’s going down—and we all know it’s going to get worse—are you ever going to be able to spare even one person to help me get home?”
Zach answered this time, “Babe, you gotta see where we’re coming from …”
“Oh, I see it. But it doesn’t change a damn thing for me. I didn’t ask for your help in the first place. And I don’t need it. I feel like I’ve said this before, but at the risk of repeating myself, I’ll say it again: I got myself here, and I will get myself home. And I’ll be doing it on the timeline we agreed on. If you can’t hold up your end of the bargain, that’s on you. But you better not stop me from leaving.” Ro could have patted herself on the back for getting it all out without raising her voice.
Graham was across the room in an instant, his callused fingers gripping Ro’s chin. “You are not leaving by yourself. No way in hell. Did you miss the part where one of my men was shot today? Are you that naïve that you think you have any chance of safely making it home by yourself?”
Ro jerked her chin from his grip and her previously detached tone evaporated like water on scorching asphalt. “You already got to fuck me with your buddy. What do you care what I do now?”
Graham gripped her by her shoulders and dragged her against him. “Goddammit, Ro. You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
Zach moved in behind her, sandwiching her between them. It was a little too reminiscent of last night for Ro.
“We care. A whole hell of a lot,” he said. “Which is why we can’t let you go alone. You’re too damn important.”
Ro slumped back against Zach. This argument was going nowhere. Both sides had gone to the mat, and neither was going to back down. It was time to retreat to their corners and regroup with a new strategy.
Ro exhaled. “Let’s just eat dinner and talk about it later. You’ve got to be starving.”
Both men seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Graham released her to Zach’s embrace, but not before dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“We’ll figure it out, babe. Just give us some time.”
But time was the only thing Ro didn’t have to spare.