The tree held him up, and the bark, rough and solid against the back of his head, kept him here, in reality. The rotors somewhere above tore up the air like a storm—the wind and sound and tension a rush like nothing he’d felt in his life.
Or was that the beating of his own damn heart? Were they gone? Did it even matter?
It was unreal how hard he was, how jacked up, how absolutely frenzied. Pain and fear and excitement mixed with adrenaline and craving, the cocktail blasting through him—them—pushing him to do things he’d never consider in his real life.
Oh yeah? a voice asked, from deep in his messed-up brain.Which life is that?Playing football in college? Throwing his weight around as a federal marshal? Wasting his time loving the ex-fiancé who’d dumped him when things went bad?
Real wasthis. Mud and sky, snow and rotting leaves. Hot, biting kisses against sandpaper bark, danger and lust and something deep and raw and too fresh to look at.
He didn’t just throw caution to the wind when he reached for her now; he slung it wide and watched it shatter—the explosion a climax he’d been awaiting for years—decades that felt like centuries. So long he’d become one with his surroundings, died every winter to be reborn in the spring along with the rest of this place.
He hardly registered her hands at his waist, struggling to unbutton his pants. All he felt was the soft, warm give of her mouth as his tongue tasted, teased, fought with hers. Teeth parried, noses sucked each other in.
There was no question of where this would end, no doubt in his mind that he’d be inside her within seconds. How could he not? Everything frantic and needy and animalistic in him wanted this—now. And what was he if not an animal?
No.
He wrenched his head away, breathing hard.
“Shouldn’t do this.”
“I need this.” She sounded like she’d just run a marathon. Out of breath and dazed. “Lift me up and I’ll—”
He put his hand out, stopping her, and then stared at its placement. Not on her chest exactly, but higher, at the cusp of her neck, the fingers spread wide. If she were an enemy, it would be awfully close to a chokehold, but given that they were on the same side, and that they’d been sucking face seconds before, there was something unbearably intimate in the way he held her at bay.
Her eyes rolled down to his arm and rose again, her expression vague at first, then slowly clearing, like she’d just awakened from a fugue state. Which was how he felt, except he couldn’t claim a second of memory loss.
He remembered everything.
“What the hell?” Her whisper came out slurred, almost drunk.
“Don’t know.”
She blinked, her eyes clearer now that the lust fog had dissipated.
“Better”—he worked to catch his breath—“keep moving.”
“Right.” She nodded. “We need to warn Campbell Turner and keep the virus out of the wrong hands.”
Just hearing the name—Campbell Turner—sent a wave of hopelessness through him. He cleared his throat of the guilt. “Actually, we can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Her gaze sharpened, losing the last vestiges of lust.
No way could he keep the truth from her now—not with what they’d lived through together. Not with the way she made him feel. “Can’t see him at all.”
“Why not?” Her voice was careful, deceptively calm.
“He’s dead.” The words didn’t feel right on his tongue. Christ, it wasn’t easy to admit, even after all this time.
She blinked. “And the virus?”
His mouth opened and shut a couple of times before the truth came out. “There is no virus.”
***
Amka could use a nap. After feeding the dogs, she’d taken Marion and the kids to Ila’s cabin on the other side of the lake. She left them with several sat phones and instructions to keep calling Leo’s friends until they got through. But there was work to do. Jackasses to destroy.
A town to take back.
