Seduced by Three (2 page)

Sarge took a step toward her. “Your dad asked me to take care of you if anything ever happened when he was on the road. Something happened, so I’m here.” He knew his voice was an intimidating rumble, almost dangerous, especially coming from a strange man in the dark, and he made a conscious effort to appear less imposing.

“What are you talking about? What happened?”

“Get up and get dressed. I’ll explain everything to you on our walk back to my house.”

“Your house?” She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know you.”

“Yes you are, now get dressed. You’re going to have to pack a light bag that you can easily carry. Make sure you bring…girl stuff. I don’t have any in my shelter. You’re going to be with me until your dad gets back, and that could be as long as next spring, so try to think ahead a little bit.”

“You done?” Grace stood her ground with her arms crossed.

Sarge raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m done.”

She advanced on him fluidly. She was a shadow slinking through the blue-toned light of the moon that streamed in the window. She was temptation itself when she stopped and put her face as close to his that their difference in height would allow. “If you’re not going to stop and tell me what’s going on, I want you to get the fuck out of my house,” she said through clenched teeth.

Sarge used every ounce of his self-control to not laugh in her face. Her soft-spoken voice didn’t match her big, bad words. She was so
un
threatening, so
un
imposing that it seemed like he could blow on her and she’d fall over. She was like…a little, angry angel. He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

“There’s been an EMP. Do you know what that is?”

“Of course I do. Couldn’t be Ethan’s daughter and not know what an EMP is. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed and tucked a stray swatch of short blonde hair behind her ear. “My dad wanted me to go with you?”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We have our own shelter and supplies here.”

He shrugged. “I promised your dad. Now get moving,” he said over his shoulder on the way out of her room.

Grace lowered herself onto the edge of her bed, letting this new information sink in.

She’d taken a nap after the power had gone out. It was an indulgence she hadn’t had in longer than she could remember. Waking up to this hulking stranger with news of what could conceivably be a life-changing catastrophe had her rattled.

This could potentially change every plan she’d ever made for herself, and the super busy, overscheduled grind of her life—college, internship, work, repeat, day after day—was now…She shrugged. She didn’t know how to finish that thought.

Grace stood, dressed, and then rummaged quickly through her closet for her bag. After grabbing her gun, she headed downstairs.

Sarge was a menacing shadow by the back door when she walked into the kitchen.

“That was fast.” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah, well my dad always insisted that I have a bugout bag packed and ready just in case I needed it. I have to go down and grab some things before we go.”

“I picked up everything you’ll need from the ‘Grace’ shelf down there, and I left a note for your dad,” Sarge said, turning toward the door. “You ready? It’s about a three-hour walk.”

Grace lingered and looked around the kitchen. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, and her stomach flipped and fluttered, giving her a bizarre feeling of eeriness. Would she ever be back here? The surreal element of the situation raced through her awareness. She hadn’t even left her house yet, and everything already felt different. She stuffed her gun in the back of her waistband, walked out of the house, and locked the door before following this perfect stranger into the darkness.

“Wait, I want to take my bike.”

Sarge looked at her with cold, assessing eyes and what she suspected was a permanent glower. He hesitated at the request and then nodded. “Hurry.”

“I don’t see why you’re in such a rush. Things aren’t going to start getting bad for at least a day or two,” Grace said, walking to the garage.

“If we were out in the suburbs, maybe. But we’re close to the city, and I live
in
the city. It’s not going to take long for people to realize that no cars means no cops. The people who were criminals before the EMP will be openly committing any crime they want, and others will play follow-the-leader when they see there’s no law responding.”

After hooking the straps of her duffel onto the handles of the bike, Grace fell into step with Sarge. She looked at the night sky. It was a warm, clear evening. The moon and starlight shone back at her, unchanged despite all of the other changes that had taken place in the world that day.

She angled some glances toward Sarge as they walked silently through the night. The man was intense. The expression on his face was fierce, and his eyes were primitive, like a wild animal’s, as he surveyed the terrain ahead for threats. He was like her dad. She felt it. The atmosphere of the space surrounding him was concentrated, charged with power and pent-up aggression. He threw off an aura of safety, or danger, depending on which side of his split-second judgment a person landed on. He’d be ruthless and unmerciful toward anyone he determined to be a threat.

“What’s your real name?” she asked.

“Steve Connelley. But everybody calls me Sarge.”

“Are you a cop or military?” Grace asked, knowing it had to be one of the two.

He turned his head, and his calculating eyes bored into her. The sudden absolute focus in her direction made her self-conscious, heated her cheeks, and shot sparks up her spine. Abruptly, she averted her eyes, protecting herself from what felt like a penetrating inspection of her soul.

“I was in the marines, but I’ve been out for two years.” He turned his attention back to their route. “I’m a sergeant at a prison now. They have rank for the officers there, like in the military.”

His words were a rough tumble of syllables laced with raw authority. She nodded and knew enough not to push her luck by asking more questions. Men like Sarge weren’t talkers, and that was probably for the best because she had a serious case of flustered dumbstruck going on. It was out of character for her. She didn’t like it but chalked the foggy brain up to being roused from a sound sleep.

When they arrived at the end of the street and turned onto the main road, they saw a group of shadowy figures gathered farther down in the direction they were going to be heading. Sarge held a finger to his lips as a sign for her to be quiet.

“Is there a street that runs parallel to this one?” he whispered. “One that’s a little more residential?”

“Yeah, there’s one that runs parallel for several miles but we’ll have to cross this street to get there.”

Sarge nodded. “You go first. I’ll cover you. After you’re safely across, I’ll go. If there’s trouble, get on your bike and go. Try to make your way home. Don’t worry about me. Okay?”

She turned to glare at him. “No, not okay. I won’t leave you behind, and you better not fucking leave me behind if the tables are turned,” she hissed back.

Sarge narrowed his eyes and nailed her with a look of confused disapproval. Grace didn’t want to get sucked into a debate. He’d understand soon enough that she wasn’t the helpless little girl that her face and her voice portrayed her to be. She didn’t wait for his response before she rolled her bike across the main street. After reaching the other side, she walked a little farther down so she was obscured in the darkness.

Grace was struck by the sight of Sarge following behind her, his head constantly sweeping from side to side. She smiled.

Holy hell. This guy is the fucking Terminator.

She squashed her smile by the time he met up with her in the shadows.

“It’s going to be hard to stay away from people. But I still think this street is safer than the other,” he murmured, leaning in close to her ear. “Most people here will be just exchanging information…telling their stories, not plotting to break into the 7-Eleven. If we can hide in the darkness to stay away from trouble, the trip will be easier. Keep your eyes peeled for people and stay quiet.”

As they turned down the parallel street, Grace saw two women standing in their yards talking. Sarge pulled her behind him a little, putting his body between her and the two, and then repeated the motion again and again as they walked at a quick pace down the street on the opposite sides of where they saw people up ahead. Most of the people they passed didn’t even notice their silent slide through the edges of the neighborhood.

Grace found herself enjoying every grab, pull, and protect move he executed. His touch was powerful, dominant. It was provocative.
He
was provocative.

About two hours into their walk, Grace heard people yelling over on the main street they’d been avoiding. She glanced at Sarge, but didn’t utter a word. They continued at a quick pace into a thickening smoky haze. There was subtle illumination in the night sky to their right. Fire. In these old neighborhoods, the houses were all wood and built close together. There would be no fire trucks or police coming to the rescue. Without water, it didn’t take a psychic to predict the whole block would be burned to the ground by morning.

The two looked at each other. Grace read the look on Sarge’s face, and when he picked up the pace of his stride, she followed suit. They needed to leave the ensuing chaos far behind them as quickly as possible.

“We’re about a half hour from my house,” Sarge said when the parallel road they’d been traveling dead-ended, and they were forced to return to the main street. They were well into the city now, and the neighborhood was dangerous at night even before the EMP.

There were some small crowds up ahead. The distinctive smell of pot carried in the air toward them. It seemed like the groups were casing the storefronts and having a who-can-be-more-obnoxious contest with their loud laughing and cursing.

The first group that Sarge and Grace passed either didn’t notice them or ignored them. They were not as lucky with the second. Grace saw the exact moment one of the men’s eyes fixed on her. He pointed her out to his friends. When all three heads turned in their direction, she knew it was on.

“Hey, pretty thing, what you doin’ with that guy?” he called over to her. “Come on over here, baby. I’ll show you what a real man feels like.” He leered at her and grabbed his crotch. “You know what they say, once you’ve had black, you never go back.”

His friends laughed. “Yeah, you wish, Rodney,” one of them said.

The three appraised Sarge and Grace and no doubt typecast them into the category of easy prey.

Grace smiled to herself when Sarge grabbed her arm and pulled her to the other side of him, shielding her with his body again, as they walked a wide arc around the men’s territory.

“What’s the matter, bitch, you too good to talk to us?” the leader yelled.

The group of three men sauntered toward them. They looked barely twenty-one, but they walked like they owned everything their greedy little eyes could see.

“Stay behind me. I’ll take care of it. If I tell you to go, get on your bike and beat it. I’ll find you down the street later. Okay?”

She didn’t answer him. Jeez, the man was a hardhead. She had already told him she wouldn’t leave him behind. She could take care of herself as well as cover his ass if he needed it. She sent out a visual fuck off to the leader and sized up the other two who were following him.

“Okay?” Sarge repeated.

“No. Not okay,” she said, irritated.

Sarge had no time to argue with her, because the men were right up on them. “All right, guys, we’re not bothering you. We just want to get home. We were stranded just like everybody else,” Sarge said.

“Shut the fuck up!” the first man snapped. “I wasn’t talking to you now was I?”

“Listen, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Sarge kept up.

“Well why don’t you leave your pretty lady with me, and we promise, we won’t hurt her at all,” he sneered, stepping forward and pulling out a gun. He pointed it at Sarge’s head. “You got a choice. You can shut up and leave or I’ll shoot your punk ass. Either way, the lady is staying with me.”

Grace was weary of the big, bad, “I’m a gangster” routine already, but when the tough guy wannabe pointed his gun at Sarge, she’d had enough.

In a fluid motion, Grace pulled her gun out of the waistband of her pants, aimed over Sarge’s shoulder at the obnoxious prick in front, and shot. The man fell to the ground, howling and gripping the mangled mess of the arm that, just seconds ago, had been holding his gun. It fell to the pavement. In a flash, Sarge picked up the man’s weapon and her focus flicked to the two men left standing. “You want some of me, too?” she asked the other two men with what she knew was her incongruously small and delicate voice.

They stood over their friend, their mouths gaped open, stunned.

“Come on, Grace, let’s go.” Sarge tugged her away from the men as well as others whose curiosity had them headed in their direction.

“Go, Grace!”

She walked her bike with long, accelerating strides as Sarge walked backward next to her, keeping an eye on their rear.

“Damn, Grace, what were you thinking shooting so close to my ear!” he shouted. “And I had that under control!” He looked furious, with his teeth clenched and veins popping.

She shrugged. “It was the right counter move for the situation.”

His head snapped around, and his deadly eyes fixed on her, but he didn’t say a word. After that, Sarge fell silent.

The silence gave Grace plenty of time to think about the fact that she’d point-blank shot a man. She wasn’t sorry she did it. She knew what the alternative would have been, and that just wasn’t going to happen. Still, the distinction between learning to shoot a man and actually doing it was crystallizing, forming a hard, sharp reality in her mind. Her father had trained her throughout her life to be able to make the tough decisions necessary to stay alive in the face of a serious threat. But he never trained her on how to deal with it afterward.

She caught Sarge darting glances her way in the fading predawn darkness. He was sizing her up, no doubt adjusting his first impression of her.

A wave of relief washed over Grace when they finally reached Sarge’s house at dawn. He ushered her down to the cool, dim shelter through a small hidden door in a bedroom closet.

“Get some sleep,” he said, pointing to the twin bed tucked up against a wall at the bottom of the stairs.

Without a word, Grace pulled off her work boots and crawled on top of the bed. She sighed as she settled in facing the painted cement block wall. She tried to calm her mind enough to sleep, but a deluge of thoughts refused to let her relax.

The fear and worry for her father, that she hadn’t allowed herself to focus on during their three-hour trek established a foothold in her brain. The thought of him being out there on his own tore her apart.

She loved that man with all her heart. He was literally everything to her—mom and dad, protector, and now that she was older, friend. He tried hard to be a good parent to her through the years—never too busy to sit and get his hair brushed when she was playing beauty salon, never uncomfortable when it came to being her parent. He told her like it was about everything, from periods to boys. He never cut corners or shirked the responsibility of raising a well-rounded human being. And she adored him for every affectionate bear hug and awkward conversation they’d had when she was growing up