Graham had to admit that he was be impressed by the level of Mr. Callahan’s preparedness. His vehicle of choice was a 1965 Ford diesel crew-cab pick-up truck. It was plenty old enough not to use electronics that could be affected by an EMP and could also run on biodiesel. A steel topper that Mr. Callahan had hand-fabricated covered the bed of the truck. It added a ton of weight, but it provided cover for the supplies in the back and featured small gun ports that could easily slide open and shut. Graham, Zach, Ro, and Erica crammed into the front bench seat, and Jamie sat in the back, where Mr. Callahan was laid out. He tried to keep the unconscious man as still as possible as they followed Erica’s directions down every back road and two-track to make their way southwest. It would have been faster to travel the main roads, but any road worth traveling was largely impassible. Cars, which may never run again, were lined up as if stuck in a perpetual traffic jam. The dirt roads and two-tracks were bumpy, but trying to dodge the cars would be worse. Jamie had wrapped pressure bandages around Mr. Callahan’s shoulder and upper torso to keep the bleeding under control and the clotting sponges in place, but with every rut, Graham feared the bleeding would start again. He carefully hauled ass while following Erica’s uncanny sense of direction. The two-track spilled out onto a gravel road, and Graham eased off the gas and waited for Erica’s next direction.
“Shit. I don’t know which way we should go,” Erica said, craning her head right and left before studying the compass bobbing on the dash. “Chances are there are more cars if we head west down this road, but I don’t like the idea of going east because we’ll end up backtracking.” She looked to Graham, chewing her lip. “Ideas, big man?”
The corners of Graham’s mouth twitched. Little Rambo Girl, as Jamie had taken to calling her, was one-of-a-kind. Just like her sister. Graham shut the thought down as soon as it entered his head. He reminded himself that she’d walked out on them, and it didn’t fucking matter if she was one-of-a-kind or one-in-a-million. She’d made her choice. Although, watching her clutch her sister’s hand and shoot worried looks at her father, he was starting to see things more clearly. You don’t back a desperate woman into a corner and expect her not to react. Graham couldn’t help but think about the night his mother had walked out of their shitty motel room in Cincinnati. He wished she’d had a more compelling reason than just looking for her next fix. Hell, Graham wished she’d thought her son was a compelling reason to stay. The old bitterness was unshakeable. And Zach wondered why Graham had never been in a hurry to find a long-term woman to tuck into bed between them. He pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. “We need to make time. Let’s head west and take our chances. We can’t be too far from the ranch.”
Erica’s expression was determined as she nodded, reaching for the map on the dash. “Show me again exactly where we’re headed. I’ll get us there.”
Ro forced herself to release the death grip she had on Erica’s hand. It was like her subconscious was telling her not to let go or else she might lose her sister forever. They’d finally made it. Travis swung one of the main gates open as they approached. As soon as they were in range Zach had radioed the command post to advise Ty of the situation. Graham increased the speed as they headed toward the steel walls that had meant both safety and captivity to Ro. Right now, those walls looked like her father’s salvation … and maybe, her future? The possibility was hard to believe given that Graham had barely spoken a word to her since he, Zach, and Jamie had shown up in all of their commando-glory to take down Len and Ronny in her dad’s driveway. A section of the steel wall slid open revealing the compound that Ro had snuck out of only the morning before. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Ty had promised that Beau would be ready and waiting. Ro hoped like hell that the ornery bastard would be able to help her dad. He’d woken a few times during the ride, which hadn’t been nearly as long as Ro feared. Even with the painfully slow pace, it had only taken a little over an hour.
Graham drove straight through the center of the compound and pulled up along the front of the clinic. Beau was standing in the doorway, hands already gloved. Jonah stood next to him holding a backboard. Erica and Graham shoved open the front doors of the cab, and they all climbed out. Erica opened the rear passenger side door and waved Jonah over. Jamie, Graham, and Jonah worked seamlessly as Beau directed them to move her dad into the clinic. When Ro tried to follow, Zach stopped her at the door.
“You should wait out here. Your sister, too. You need to let Beau work and not get in his way.”
Ro pushed against Zach’s outstretched arm. “I need to be in there.”
Jamie was dragging a screeching Erica from the clinic. “Let me go! You can’t keep me out.”
Jamie closed the clinic door with his free hand, leaving Jonah, Beau, and Graham inside.
“He’ll be fine. They’ve got it covered. Just give them some space,” Jamie said.
Ro hoped he was right, because she really, really needed her dad to be okay. The alternative was unacceptable. Every girl needed her daddy when the world fell apart. Especially since the last time she’d seen him, she’d been distracted, worrying about work and counting down the hours until she could safely sneak away to put out all the fires that had sprung up in her absence. And where had that gotten her? Ro tamped down the resentment. She needed to let it go. But it was hard when she looked at what she’d sacrificed for the sake of her ambition: time with her family, the people who mattered.
Ro sagged against Zach’s hold, and he maneuvered them until she sat in his lap, leaning against the side of the clinic. Instinctively, she curled into his big frame. Erica’s temper had calmed marginally, and she paced back and forth in front of the building. Jamie watched her intently.
Erica paused in her pacing and faced Ro. “So you and him, huh? Does that mean the big, grumpy one who drove us back is available?”
Ro knew her sister was only trying to take her mind off what might be happening inside the clinic, but she still wanted to snap out an unequivocal “no.” Except she didn’t have the right to make that statement.
Zach’s arm tightened around her as though he could read her thoughts. “Graham’s pretty hung up on someone, and it might be a long wait if you’re trying to get his attention,” Zach said.
Ro swiveled in his lap so she could see his face. “He barely looked at me …” She trailed off when Erica cocked her head.
“Wait … what? I was joking, but now I’m just confused. If you and him … and you and the other one …” The door to the clinic opened as Erica said, “You’re doing them both?”
Ro was paying diligent attention to the ground and mentally kicking herself for the rush of hope that flooded her at Zach’s words. She didn’t want to explain the situation to her sister, and she really didn’t want to look up at the doorway, because she knew, just knew, that Graham was standing there, probably trying to process the snippet of conversation he’d overheard. Then again, he’d have an update on her dad, and that was more important than dodging the awkward situation. Face burning with embarrassment, she met Graham’s appraising gaze reluctantly. “How is he?”
“He lost a lot of blood before we got it controlled, so Beau is giving him some. He’s working on cleaning the wood splinters out of the wound, and hopefully he’ll finish that up before your dad comes around. Beau thinks he should pull through just fine. You can go in and sit with him after Beau’s done. It’ll be about a half hour or so.”
Ro sagged against Zach, overwhelmed by relief. But Erica wasn’t satisfied.
“You have a blood supply?”
“We’ve got two universal donors. So we donate and rotate it out. Shit happens. Never know when you might need it.”
Erica sized up Graham. “Who the hell are you people?”
“Nobody special.”
Erica’s expression turned thoughtful. “If you somehow talked my sister into sleeping with you and him, I’d have to say there’s something special there. I mean …”
Ro closed her eyes and prayed that a sinkhole would miraculously develop beneath her.
When no sinkhole appeared, she settled for saying, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”
“I just wanted to know why the guy looks so pissed, when he’s got a hot piece like you doing the ménage thing. Is it because the other guy missed the hole and accidentally …”
“Oh my God.” Mortification flamed through Ro as she buried her face in her hands. “I swear to Christ, I should have muzzled you freshman year when you told Mitch Hopper I was masturbating to his yearbook picture and you heard me moaning his name through my bedroom door.” She looked up to see Erica’s grinning face and pushed to her feet. She threw herself at her sister in a full body hug. “I missed you so much.”
“Missed you, too, big sis. And you really should have thanked me for that. After all, the hottest guy in school ended up asking you to the senior prom, and I’m pretty sure you lost your v-card that night.”
Ro slapped her hand over Erica’s mouth. “Seriously, no more.”
But they could all hear Erica’s garbled, “So what gives? Ro not putting out?”
Ro chanced a glance at Graham and straightened when she met his penetrating stare. Ro expected him to ignore Erica’s question like he had so many others. But he didn’t.
“You want to know what happened? Your sister dropped into our world like a stun grenade. Looks harmless and then, bam, it detonates, and you’re fucking blinded to anything but the flash. That’s why they call it a flash bang. Then she walked out before we could find our bearings. Took my goddamn heart with her.”
Ro stumbled back from the intensity of his words. Zach caught her and wrapped an arm around her. Erica’s mouth had dropped into an O, but she didn’t respond. Ro was too shocked to appreciate that Graham had finally figured out how to shut up her lovable, mouthy sister. But hell, Ro was speechless. What did you say to something like that? I’m sorry seemed so trite. And how did you sincerely apologize for hurting someone when you knew you’d make the same choice again?
Ro took the coward’s way out. She shoved away from Zach, disentangling herself from his arms. “I … I have to go. I need a shower.” And then she ran.
What a fucking mess, Graham thought. He wanted to punch through the wall of the clinic. With the way he was feeling, he’d probably break his goddamn hand. I’m a fucking moron, he castigated himself. The first time in his entire adult life he’d tried to tell a woman how he felt about her and he completely fucked it up. He scrubbed both hands over his face.
“Are you in love with my sister?” Erica twisted to look at Zach, and then added, “Both of you?”
Zach laughed, though it sounded forced. “You really go for the balls with every question, don’t you?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.” She stared Zach down with narrowed eyes. “Because that,” she pointed in the direction of the bathhouse, “is not normal Rowan Callahan behavior.”
“What’s your point?” Graham asked, wanting to go shoot something until he no longer felt like the world’s most pathetic asshole.
“My point is that you just verbally bitch slapped her and then alluded to the fact that you might be in love with her. That’s bad form, my friend. Bad form.” She tapped a finger against her lips and mumbled, “Especially if she feels the same way.”
“You don’t know that,” Graham said, crushing the surge of optimism at her words.
“Maybe not. But what I do know is that nothing could have stopped her from coming home after the shit hit the fan. Not 200 miles. And sure as hell not love. But if she’s in love with you—both of you—then walking away was probably one of the hardest things she’s ever done. My sister,” Erica pointed toward the bathhouse again, “fights tooth and nail for what she wants and doesn’t give up. Not unless there’s a pretty fucking compelling reason. You know, like her family waiting on her to bug out and survive the apocalypse.”
Graham’s earlier thought about Ro being backed into a corner resurfaced. Fuck. He’d really fucked up.