For the next hour, they watched the training in complete silence, and it wasn’t long before Jamie found herself yawning. Rylan and Pike were busy teaching the group how to hold the weapons in a simple two-handed grip, how to provide leverage against the recoil, the proper stance to use when aiming at a stationary target. Nobody had even fired a gun yet.
By the time the trainees were allowed to discharge their weapons, Jamie had reached her boredom breaking point.
“Want to grab something to eat?” she suggested.
With a curt nod, Lennox slid off the ledge and held out his hand to her.
She took it, curling her fingers around his as he helped her to the ground. The tension was still there. She got the feeling he was mad at her, which only triggered a burst of irritation, because she hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve his anger.
“Everything okay?” she asked tightly.
His head jerked in another nod. “All good, love.”
Bullshit. But she wasn’t in the mood to argue or pry. Lennox was like Rylan in many ways—easygoing to the max and oozing sexuality—but he also had his Pike moments of broody intensity. She’d learned never to push him when that moody cloud entered his eyes.
They headed down the cracked cobblestone sidewalk toward the large corner restaurant at the far edge of Main Street. The bright red sign had once read MERYL’S FAMILY RESTAURANT, but someone had crossed out the MERYL’S and spray-painted GRAHAM’S on top of it. Seeing it always made Jamie chuckle.
“Graham better be cooking up some burgers,” she said as Lennox opened the door for her. “Beck said Reese and Sloan were butchering at the farm the other day.”
The wind chimes hanging on the doorframe tinkled to signal their entrance. Sure enough, the delicious aroma of beef and deep-fried goodness filled Jamie’s nostrils.
Foxworth had an operational farm beyond the town gates, which was run by an older couple who preferred farming and solitude to the constant activity in town. Reese assigned people to work shifts at the farm, but Jamie had never visited the place. It would’ve made her feel too guilty to look at all those sweet cows knowing she was going to eat one. Apparently the farm had started out with fifteen cows when Reese’s group settled in the area, but last time Jamie was in Foxworth, Reese admitted they were down to three.
“What are they going to do when the beef runs out?” she murmured to Lennox, who was guiding her to the long counter across the room.
He shrugged. “Hunt more, I guess. There’s lots of game out in these woods.”
They slid onto a pair of tattered vinyl stools and greeted the outlaw woman behind the counter.
“Holy shit,” Jamie exclaimed, gaping at the pretty brunette. “You absolutely weren’t this big when I saw you a month ago, Bethany. You look like you’re going to pop any second!”
Bethany rubbed a rueful hand over the enormous bulge of her stomach. “I know, right? Feels like I’m way too big to only be six months along, but I don’t have anyone else to compare it to, so maybe it’s normal?”
Jamie didn’t have a source of comparison either. There hadn’t been a single pregnant woman in her camp growing up, and she and Lennox had never run into one during their travels. Bethany was the first and only woman she knew who was brave enough to get pregnant in the free land, and Bethany’s decision brought a tug of envy to Jamie’s heart.
She wanted children too.
She really, really did.
The one time she’d confessed it to Lennox, he’d laughed gently and told her she was crazy for wanting to get knocked up. Not only was the free land fraught with danger and hardship, but the Global Council strictly prohibited procreation. Only the handpicked breeders and studs in the cities were allowed to increase the population, and every pregnancy was carefully monitored.
Outlaw procreation was even more of a concern to the council. The Enforcers rounded up the pregnant women they found, and if they discovered any children in the free land, the parents were killed and the child was whisked away to the city.
So yes, it was a dangerous desire to harbor. Jamie was well aware of that. But the longing was there. The need to put down roots and bring new life to the world was embedded deep inside her, and seeing Bethany’s rounded belly and rosy glow only intensified the urge.
“Maybe it’s twins,” Lennox suggested, waggling his eyebrows.
Bethany paled. “Oh hell, don’t say that, Len. I don’t think I could handle it. And Arch would faint on the spot.”
“He’d lose his shit,” Lennox agreed with a laugh, before going serious. “Your man taking good care of you, love? Do I need to have a chat with him?”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “Arch and I are doing just fine. We’re both excited for this baby, both pulling our weight.”
“Good.” Lennox nodded briskly.
Jamie hid a smile. She knew Lennox would’ve kicked Arch’s ass if it turned out he wasn’t supporting Bethany. Lennox was everybody’s champion, but that was one of the things Jamie loved most about him. He’d lay down his life for the people he cared about. Hell, he’d lay down his life for strangers, depending on the circumstances.
“What can I get you guys?” Bethany asked. “Burgers and fries or beef stew. Take your pick.”
“Burgers and fries,” they said in unison.
The brunette grinned. “Coming right up.” She disappeared into the back to place their order with Graham, the grumpy, bushy-haired cook who had the tendency to call Jamie “little one” even though he couldn’t have been a year or two older than her.
The wind chimes over the door gave another melodic ring as Beckett and Travis strode inside. Jamie waved at them, then hopped off the stool to join the two men in a red vinyl booth by the window. Lennox slid in beside her, stretching one arm along the back of the booth, his fingertips lightly grazing her shoulder.
“Hey, Bethy! Burgers!” Beckett held up two fingers toward the counter, gesturing from him to Travis.
“Ever heard of the word please?” was Bethany’s dry retort.
“Only in bed,” he called back. “It’s always please, Beck, fuck me harder. Please, Beck, gimme your cock.” He feigned a confused look. “Why? Does it have meaning in another context?”
Bethany grinned at him. “I’m spitting in your food, sweetie. Just keep that in mind when you’re eating, ’kay?”
Beckett turned back to the group. “She won’t spit in my food. She loves me too much.”
Jamie laughed, but made a mental note not to take a bite out of anything on Beckett’s plate. The man might have women panting over him, but Bethany wasn’t someone you should ever underestimate.
Muffled gunfire sounded from the town square, causing Travis’s green eyes to shift toward the large front window. “You guys catch any of the target practice?” he asked.
Lennox nodded. “The kids are eager to learn.”
“They don’t see a lot of excitement here,” Travis admitted. “Reese doesn’t let them go on supply runs. At least not yet.”
“I don’t blame her. It’s dangerous outside these gates.” Lennox absently ran his hand over Jamie’s shoulder as he spoke, sending a peculiar shiver along her flesh.
She snuck a peek at his fingers. Long and callused, masculine but graceful. Her gaze slid to his wrist and forearm, resting on the swirls of ink tattooed on his golden skin. The black, red, and orangey designs extended all the way up to his solid biceps. Random pieces he’d accumulated over the years, when they’d been lucky enough to find a tattoo artist during their travels.
His other arm was also inked, but not a full sleeve. Just intricate lines and curves on his forearm, with streams of text hidden within the design. Jamie focused on one line in particular, the unmistakable capital letter inked in gorgeous calligraphy.
J.
He had her initial tattooed on his body. And she had his: an L on h
er right calf, surrounded by tiny flowers and twisty vines.
Nobody had ever picked up on that. Not Piper or Layla. Not Nell, the good friend they’d lost during the attack on their house. But Jamie had never thought anything romantic of the gestures. She and Lennox were best friends. There was nothing wrong with marking that friendship on their skin.
Right now, however, he didn’t feel like a friend. He felt like a brooding, sexed-up man who’d essentially ravaged her with his eyes earlier.
She had no idea how to respond to that.
“. . . drinking restrictions too,” Beckett was saying.
Her head snapped up. “Wait—repeat that? Are you seriously saying Reese limits how much those teenagers are allowed to drink?”
“Yep.” He grinned. “She’s a cruel mistress, our Reese. But hell, I can’t argue with that. Alcohol and teenagers don’t mix well.”
“Drunk kids do stupid things,” Travis agreed.
Jamie poked Lennox in the side and said, “Drunk adults do stupid things too.”
“Bullshit,” he retorted. “I can handle my alcohol.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She glanced at the two men across from them. “Ten.”
Beckett’s lips twitched. “Ten what?”
“That’s how many shots Len can handle before he turns into a slurring, bumbling mess.”
That got her another protest from Lennox. “Bullshit!”
Travis looked intrigued. “And how’d you come to this conclusion, sweetheart?”
“Years and years of research,” Jamie answered. “First time I noticed it, we were—what, sixteen, Len?”
He grumbled.
“Mr. Cocky over here challenged me to a drinking contest one night, so we stole a bottle of rum from his dad’s tent.” Jamie stopped, laughing. “Scratch that—I stole a bottle of rum from his dad’s tent, because Len was too much of a pussy to do it—”
“We flipped a coin,” he cut in, his eyes dark with irritation.
She ignored him. “So we took the bottle and snuck down to the beach. We were living on the coast at that time.”
“She matched me shot for shot,” Lennox admitted, albeit grudgingly.
“And when we got to ten shots, Dumb-ass over here tried to fight a tree.”
Beckett and Travis howled with laughter.
Lennox pinched her shoulder, then gave it a little smack. “There was a goddamn animal in that tree. I told you, I saw it.”
“Oh, sweetie,” was all Jamie said. Then she rolled her eyes and addressed the other men. “After that, I kept count whenever he drank, and it was the same every time—ten drinks and Len does something crazy.”
Beckett’s demeanor sobered as he looked from her to Lennox. “Must be nice.”
She wrinkled her brow. “What’s nice?”
“Having history with someone.” There was a profoundly sad chord in his tone. “My folks died when I was eight. I was alone in the colony after that.”
Jamie hadn’t known, and her heart squeezed at the pain she saw in Beckett’s eyes. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s all good. I survived.” He shrugged.
“Our parents died too,” Lennox said gruffly, his silvery gaze finding Jamie’s.
“How?” Beckett asked.
She swallowed as the memories surfaced. “Both our moms died of pneumonia. Lennox’s dad too. It wiped out most of our camp, actually. Started off as a cold, eventually turned into chest infections, then pneumonia. We had no meds, no antibiotics, and no way of getting our hands on them. All the Enforcer storage stations in the area had been looted clean.”
Lennox’s warm hand squeezed her shoulder. “Jamie’s dad survived. So did a few others, but about a year after that, we were ambushed by bandits.”
“They shot my father,” she said flatly.
A pall fell over the booth, and not even the arrival of their lunch could ease the tightness in Jamie’s chest. She missed her parents. She knew Lennox missed his too.
God, why was this world so fucked up?
She felt Lennox soften beside her. Then he brushed a reassuring kiss on her cheek, and with that one moment of tender contact, the tension that had plagued them before faded away like a wisp of smoke. They were good again. She still wasn’t sure why they’d ever been bad, but she wasn’t about to question the abrupt shift. She just leaned in closer and borrowed strength from the strongest man she’d ever known.
* * *
The first day of training wrapped up at sundown. Might be too soon to tell, but Rylan had noted some real progress among the trainees, especially the teenagers. They’d been eager to learn and, oddly enough, treated their weapons with far more respect than many of the older folks.
The kids handled the guns with a level of seriousness that Rylan appreciated, as if they had true awareness for the power they held in their hands and the gravity of that responsibility.
The adults had taken that responsibility for granted, wasting ammunition even when it was clear they weren’t prepared to hit the target.
Rylan found the discrepancy between the age groups pretty fucking interesting.
“You got this?” he asked Pike, who was in the process of closing up the gun crate.
Pike nodded in response.
“Thanks, brother. See you in the morning.”
He left Pike in the dark lot and headed for the sidewalk. Large stone planters lined the cobblestones, and while they might have been overflowing with flowers at one point in time, the planters now served as cisterns to collect rainwater. Rylan paused in front of one and dipped his hands in the cool water.
He splashed his face, then brought his cupped hands to his bare chest and let the water pour over his sweaty flesh. It had been a long day. His ears were still ringing from the continuous bursts of gunfire, and calluses had formed on his fingers from holding a gun for so long.
“Well?”
He turned at the sound of Reese’s voice. She approached him in lazy strides, but that laziness was belied by the sharp gleam in her brown eyes.
“Well what?” he asked easily.
“Think any of my people have potential?”
“Everyone has potential when it comes to guns.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not too difficult to master the concept of point and shoot.”
His mocking tone made her shoulders go rigid. Her bare shoulders, because she was wearing a tiny half top that revealed a helluva lot of cleavage and her flat midriff. Tight, dark blue jeans rode low on her hips, and Rylan fought the urge to slide a hand under her waistband and cup her pussy. Stroke it. Then tug the jeans right off, sink to his knees, and shove his tongue inside her.
It took some effort to will away an erection. Reese would probably cut his balls off if she knew where his thoughts had drifted. So would Sloan, who was lurking ten feet away and watching them with a frown.
Rylan had promised Connor he’d work his magic on Reese, but if he was being honest, he had no fucking idea how to do it. The woman went out of her way to avoid him, and when they did interact, her bodyguard was always around.
“I need you to take this seriously,” Reese said coldly. “My people have to learn how to defend themselves.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll learn. But if you want me to speculate about their potential, then it’s the hand-to-hand combat that’ll be the true test.”
She nodded.
Keeping his eyes on her, he grabbed the discarded T-shirt he’d tucked into his waistband and used it to mop up his wet chest. Reese’s gaze followed the movement of his hand, resting on his pecs before raking over his abs. Her expression lacked the normal flash of lust that most women conveyed when his bare chest was on display.
This woman was so goddamn infuriating. Rylan had wanted her from day one, but all he’d ever gotten from her was dismissal. Disgust. Scorn.
&nb
sp; And yet he continued to offer himself up to her like some kind of sexual sacrifice. Continued to face the brunt of her sharp tongue and cold rejections. Maybe it was the challenge of wanting someone he couldn’t have. Craving someone who was so damn untouchable turned him into a determined motherfucker.
“You nailing him?”
When she frowned, Rylan cocked his head toward the ever-silent Sloan.
Reese smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You were with Lennox last night.”
The smirk widened. “Was I?”
“You were.” He slipped the shirt over his head, smoothing the fabric down his chest. “I bet he fucked you and Tam good.”
Reese looked intrigued as he took a step toward her. “Where are you going with this, honey?”
“Just wondering when it’ll be my turn.” He took another step. She was a tall woman, but tiny compared to him. He always forgot how much shorter she was until he was standing this close to her. Looming over her.
She didn’t seem fazed by the disparity in their sizes. She simply tilted her head to meet his eyes and pressed one hand to the center of his chest. “You want a turn, huh?”
The heat of her palm seared through his shirt and sped up his heartbeat. “You know I do, gorgeous.”
Her lips curved ever so slightly. “And then what?”
Rylan blinked.
“What happens afterward?” she prompted, her delicate fingers stroking a slow circle around his left pec. “Let’s play this out. We get naked. You shove that big cock of yours inside me.”
Her fingertips brushed his nipple. When she pressed down hard, a jolt of lust shot through him.
“You fuck me as hard as I know you can. We come.” Her fingers traveled to his other pec, rubbing his other nipple, which hardened beneath her touch. “Maybe we fuck again.” She pinched the tight bud, and a groan left his lips. “We come again. And then what?”
It was damn near impossible to concentrate when she was toying with his chest, when her warm fingers were sliding up to his neck to stroke the taut tendons there.
“Then what?” she repeated sharply.
He snapped out of his lust-drenched stupor. “I . . . don’t know.”