Redemption (7 page)

Not only in music, but in each other, I reminded myself, thinking how I wore his scent on me like a warm sweater. He was lying there, staring up at the ceiling of the van, which had those fluorescent stars stuck to it, mimicking the nighttime sky I hadn’t seen a trace of since the Chaos. He looked deep in thought and I liked that he felt comfortable enough around me to do so.

There wasn’t any pretense with Mathias. That also made me feel less like I was on slippery ground. I’d gotten a foothold into this world—a small one, but one nonetheless.

I glanced around and spotted a guitar propped up next to me. I’d had a similar one when I’d been in boarding school and without thinking, I picked it up and my hands fit around it like they were meant to be there. I began to strum idly. It had been years since I’d done this, but as soon as my palm wound around the neck of the guitar, years of notes and chords came back to me. The warehouse echoed with the music and the storm mixed together, comforting me.

I was lost in the sounds, and when I finally looked up, Mathias was watching me with an odd look in his eyes and a half smile tugging his lips.

“Sorry. I should’ve asked,” I said sheepishly. He motioned that it was fine. And then he pointed to the guitar and motioned for me to play more. “Any special requests?”

He signed with one hand as he approached the van and dug into a box behind me. He pulled out a CD and showed me the cover and then pointed to the song. “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak.”

“I’ve never heard it before. Can you play it for me?”

He rolled his eyes, like he couldn’t believe I’d never heard a Def Leppard song, but he popped in a tape and let it blast through the speakers. As it did, I visualized the chords in my mind, pictured my fingers playing along the strings.

When the song finished, I began to strum along, and he nodded, typed,
You have an ear for music.

I did. But in my family, music wasn’t done. It was fine to play the piano at formal dinners, on request, but beyond that...

Mathias took my chin in his hand and focused me. Then he signed and I said, “I’ll bet you’re telling me to stop thinking so much, right?”

He nodded, leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. I shivered, murmured, “That’s one way.”

He huffed a silent laugh, then moved along my neck, kissing and sucking until he was sitting behind me. He slid an arm behind mine, winding one hand around the guitar neck, the other on my waist. I wound my hand around his, my fingers on top. His cock pressed against me; his breath was warm on the back of my neck and suddenly, being cold wasn’t an issue. It didn’t help that I knew what his body looked like.

Communication was
definitely
not an issue. Not when I strummed and my fingers danced on his and we were playing. And he was playing me. I was his instrument and he was learning what made me sing.

Leave this one alone

Mathias

Nearly twenty-six hours after we’d first pulled in, the storm began to abate in earnest. Only then did Bish come up from underground. As Jessa remained in the van, listening to music. I met him closer to the room where Charlie was locked away. I’d checked on him fifteen minutes ago.
He’s still out.
I
left him some water.

Bish nodded. “Caspar knows.”

And?

Bish shrugged, which meant Caspar hadn’t elaborated on anything. At least one storm had passed—it’d been wicked enough this time.

My imagination or are the storms getting worse?

“Not your imagination.” Bish glanced over at the windows, habit still after all these years. We’d look out, expecting to see light of some kind and were always met with blackness. Even when Defiance shone the artificial lights, you couldn’t see shit.

But hell, at least we had artificial lights, right? When I said that to Bish, he countered with, “Most people would say that isn’t enough.”

Most people will bitch about anything.
Dad used to say it was out of fear and they bitch when something stays the same and when something’s different. I don’t think people know what they want at all, but the Chaos changed a lot of people’s perspectives. Because hell, how can you know what’s going on in the rest of the world when you can’t even make it to the next town.

So really, the Chaos kept everyone in their own little bubble. Hell, air travel was rare as hell and equally as dangerous, so even the Air Force had their hands tied as to what the fuck the rest of the world was dealing with when the storms first happened. It’s not like you could pull up fucking Google Earth.

Bish theorized that the PTB wanted it that way. It was a great way to keep people separate and scared, still thinking that the man held all the power.

You did not just call the president
“
the man.
”

“What’s wrong with that?”

You gonna give me the peace sign and ask for flower power next?

“No, but I might join a commune and sleep with as many people as possible.”

And that’s different from your pre-Chaos life how?

Bish grunted a reply that was a cross between a curse and a laugh and I wondered how long before Bish was asking Jessa or Charlie whether or not his theories were correct.

All I knew was what Mississippi and Louisiana and a few places in between looked like now. And you couldn’t really give a shit about anything happening more than ten miles from you when you couldn’t know. It was all about survival, and that meant dealing with what was right in front of you.

I did a lot of things post-Chaos—it’s not that I was particularly proud of them. They just are. And if the lights ever come back on and all of this becomes a part of history, I can only imagine what people will think. Hell, I know what some people think now, those who can’t understand how Bish and I could do what we do. We’d talk about that sometimes, how we’d explain to our kids what we did if and when the world unfucked itself. Hell, it happened to us and we still couldn’t believe it. I’d never have imagined sitting back and opening the front door of my house and finding absolutely fucking nothing. Zero to sixty in the opposite direction. So to tell someone who hadn’t lived through it to imagine it, to realize your phone doesn’t work, you can’t get on the internet and the roads are gone... And even if you could find a road, you still wouldn’t know where you to get gas or food.

I’d tell them,
Imagine that and tell me what you’d do.

Because I’d already answered it for myself, and for everyone else: you’d either survive, or you’d die. It’s that simple. There’s no more in between.

In the beginning, things sucked for most people. Bish and I were in mourning for our family but hell, we knew how to survive. It was amazing to watch how many people lost their fucking minds when they couldn’t get on the internet or watch TV.

The Chaos hadn’t so much changed me as it brought out my natural instincts at a much earlier age. Or at least let me run with them and not get arrested.

I’d been using a rifle since I was old enough to hold and handle one properly. Where I grew up, that started early. The military took my already-honed skills and used them to their advantage. It was three squares and a rack before but post-Chaos it was more like a rifle and good fucking luck. We were tasked with keeping order, keeping gangs like Defiance and the mafias from encroaching on U.S. laws.

Led families to some hastily set-up refugee camps. Tried to get more able-bodied guys to join the military instead of running wild.

“And then we became those guys who wanted to run wild,” Bish added. “And look at us now.”

With that, Bish went out of the warehouse to assess how bad it was outside and I told Jessa,
Caspar’s going to want to meet you.
He’s the president of the MC.

“What’s he like?”

I’ll be here with you
.

“That bad, huh?” She said it with a smile, but she was nervous. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to pretend this wouldn’t happen. “Is it okay if I wash up?”

I motioned for her to follow, led her back into the warehouse bathroom, because I couldn’t let her wander the warehouse alone. I wasn’t supposed to let her out of my sight, for security reasons, but after bedding her, I’d be damned if I’d ever want to let her out of my sight.

She splashed water on her face, then patted it dry. I handed her a cup of coffee Bish had brought up and she drank it quickly. And then she went over to the big sink with other cups lined up next to it. She washed it out and dried it, placed the dish towel on the side of the sink.

Or she’d tried to, but it slid off the counter and onto the floor in a ball.

Company’s coming. An old Cajun superstition too ingrained in me to ever forget. It was innocuous—or it should’ve been. But anyone who showed up in Defiance mere hours post-storm I’d bet meant trouble.

I stopped. The storm was over and the air held that deadly quiet I hated. People were slowly starting to come up from the tubes, happy to be freed. But I stood out in the chill of the night and I stared into the darkness.

Something’s coming.

Not something—someone.

“Mathias?” Jessa gripped my arm as motorcycles rumbled the earth. There was no alarm sounded, but Defiance moved as though their lives depended on it. Women and children went back underground. Bikes roared out toward the gates to meet the intruders head-on.

Bish waited at the door of the warehouse and when he signed,
They’re coming through the back gates
, I knew there wasn’t time to waste.

I tugged Jessa and she followed easily. I led her back into the van and into the old trunk we kept in the van to hide guns, which was where we’d put Charlie earlier.

She backed away, shaking her head, but I caught her. Held her. Stroked her cheek, rubbed her back and stared into her eyes, trying to get her to believe me that she needed to fucking hide—all the while, prepared to shove her in with a gag in her mouth if she didn’t cooperate.

Because Keller was on his way here. And while it was too damned soon for him to miss his son, finding Jessa here would ruin everything.

Finally, she lay down in the trunk and let me close the lid. I swore I heard a soft sob when she heard the click of the lock and I clenched my teeth together and debated letting her out. But that was only for a second, because I knew the dangers inherent in that.

I stuffed the key in my pocket and joined Bish at the warehouse doors.

“Too soon for them to know anything,” Bish murmured as Keller’s truck came to a stop in front of the warehouse. The doors were still open, and now Caspar was up from the tubes and striding head on toward Keller.

We advanced behind Caspar, who had Rebel and Hammer flanking his sides. Bish’s eyes had gone stony, which was always scary and I knew we’d both have a hard time keeping ourselves in check.

But we would, if for no other reason than not to give ourselves away to Keller. Not yet.

Keller got out of the truck and marched toward Caspar. I’d only seen him once before, and as usual, he was trailed by bodyguards from his own compound as well as members of the LoV.

“LoV’s not welcome on my property,” Caspar told him. “Get them the fuck outside of the gates.”

Keller stared at him, nostrils flared for a second before making a motion with his hand. Slowly, grudgingly, the LoV retreated to just outside the gates, but still within listening distance.

“I mean, outside the main gates,” Caspar growled.

“That’s as far as they go,” Keller told him, and before Caspar could say anything more, he continued, “You think over my proposal?”

“No,” Caspar said bluntly.

“My son Victor was coming to visit you.”

“Been underground. Haven’t been taking many visitors.”

“We lost three supply trucks in this storm.”

Caspar shrugged. “How’s that my issue?”

“You know exactly why, Caspar. I couldn’t fit them into the tubes I have and they were full of enough goddamned supplies to keep a compound like this running for a month. You could grow your own food and pretend that’s going to be enough, but we both know you’re fooling yourself. You’re running this place into the ground. No one’s going to stand behind you. It doesn’t matter who your father was.”

“Don’t care much for lectures.”

Keller took a step forward. Caspar stayed where he was, an almost amused smile on his face, while Reb moved forward. Keller eyed him, then brought his gaze back to Caspar. “Don’t push me.”

“We’ll keep the deal we’ve always had. Tubes for food and gas for your enterprises. Not the LoV. We’re not your personal bitch.”

“That deal is over. Lance and Roan promised a cut.”

“Lance and Roan are dead. Keep that in mind.”

And with those rumbled words, a war was truly born. I thought about Jessa, close enough to hear this, and I wondered if trusting her was the worst thing I could do.

It didn’t matter. I already did.

The upshot was, Keller wanted the tubes for free—wanted them for his LoV bodyguards too. Normally, this all worked on trade but Keller wanted too much...and they wanted Defiance to either pay or cut them in on the tube business. Lance and Roan had been prepared to allow this for a onetime payout, which was not only stupid, but incredibly shortsighted as well.

“Cut ties with the LoV and you’ve got a deal,” Caspar told Keller, knowing full well Keller would refuse, because the LoV was his main supplier of girls for the trafficking business.

Keller shook his head at Caspar, almost sadly, but Caspar just smiled and said, “Then we’re done here. Take that trash with you when you go.”

Keller’s face hardened. “You’re making a huge mistake, Caspar.”

Caspar took a step toward him and growled, “Don’t ever tell me what I’m doin’, Keller. That’s a mistake you’ll only make once.”

Keller wisely backed away, as did his men, but it didn’t mean that we’d won. Still, until Keller realized that Victor was gone, along with his spoils, it’d be business as usual. The LoV would try to fuck with us as often as possible, Keller would short Defiance food and gas, the way he’d been for months.