Chapter Eighteen

I knew that voice, thought I’d heard the last of it. Caught in the goddamn act again. Coming to my feet, I couldn’t believe my eyes when a figure emerged from the surrounding trees.

Beside me, Blondie leaped up, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Seeing as there’s a war going on, maybe you could save the ass groping for later?”

Marching forward, I ate my grin. “Lieutenant Grant.”

She saluted. “Commander Cannon.”

I crushed her to me, covering a blast of emotion with my gruff tone. “Goddamn you, girl.”

In my arms, her rigid stance faltered, but her smart mouth didn’t. “Not going soft on me, sir, are you?”

I just clutched her harder until she squealed. Probably a first for First Lieutenant Liz Grant.

Eventually, I let her loose. “What are you doing here?”

She looked good. Orderly. Unhurt. Jerking her chin aside, she joked, “Heard there was a party. Didn’t want to miss it. Hey, Nate.”

Nate? Scanning between her and my lover, I reeled back. This was my right-hand woman, who’d never been anything but levelheaded. “Did he coerce you?”

The man in question crossed his arms and glared at me while Liz rolled her eyes. “Sure. If by coerce you mean contacting spies, searching the Territories for me and sending an escort, salvaging plans, saving your sorry ass…I gotta go on?”

I looked at the ground instead of the pair of them, unsure of what to make of the situation.

She knocked me on the arm with one of her famous motherfucking punches. “Did I forget to mention your man sweetened the coercion with promises of bombs, raids, and turning our guns on the bad guys? All my favorites.” She hit my other arm. “Don’t be such a dickhead. Jesus, Nate, what do you see in him?”

“He has his moments.” He looked at me with that arched eyebrow.

“I’m sure. And I don’t wanna be privy to those.”

So this is my fucking life now? My best friend and my boyfriend doing the one-two hits on me?

I cleared my throat and stared into the mirror of her eyes. “You understand the implications of joining us?”

“Fuck’s sake, Caspar. I thought getting something up your ass besides that ax handle you usually walk around with would loosen you up some.” Strutting back a couple steps, she raised her hands, flicking her fingers. “I look stupid to you?”

Amid Blondie’s stifled laughs, I said, “No.”

Grabbing her crotch, Liz said, “I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

A soft voice reached us. “Ah can attest to that.”

Oh, look. A cunting reunion.

Where was the peace, the joy?

“What the hell’s she doing here?” I ground out.

“You really are an ungrateful bastard, aren’t you?” Liz casually remarked, both of us watching while Farrow and Blondie exchanged some kind of fancy-pants, double-cheek, air-kiss crap. Whatever. At least it wasn’t full mouth-to-mouth contact.

“She helped Nate keep up appearances since you couldn’t keep your hands off him.”

I took offense to that. “Wait a frigging minute. He’s the one who pursued me.”

The tilt of her head was cocky. “Yeah, I’m sure you played real hard to get. You can save the whole romance story to tell to your grandkids.”

Lieutenant Grant was looking a demotion right in the eye if she kept up the insubordination. Then she swept her arm open, welcoming the petite woman to her side. “She helped Nate, and then I helped her.” Her harsh, beautiful features smoothing over, Liz dropped to Farrow’s ear and was rewarded with a peal of feminine laughter.

I scowled at the striking pair—the small curvy blonde next to Liz who looked so formidable with her short razored locks—my world turning upside down again.

“And you can stow that glare while you’re at it, Commander, preferably in your ass, if you’ve got extra room back there.” Hugging the newcomer close, she added, “She’s the spy who located me. She’s with me, not Nate.”

The dainty creature, who happened to be a goddamn spy, strolled up to me, her hand outstretched. “Commander Cannon, Ah’ve heard a lot about you.”

I harrumphed. Blondie pushed me forward. When my big paw engulfed hers, she beckoned me down. “Ah’m sorry for the misunderstandin’. Ah’ve spent a lot of time with Nathaniel over the years, Caspar, and Ah’ve never seen him as distraught as he’s been this week, just beside himself about you.” Quieting her voice to a low lilt, she said, “Nathaniel was nevah mine to have. He was nevah available to anyone, before you.”

I squeezed her hand, and she took the opportunity to dig her nails in. My eyes flicked to hers, their soft appeal compacting to harsh green nuggets. “Liz is your family just as Nathaniel’s mine. You have my word Ah’ll look after her as long as she’ll let me.”

The idea of the little woman taking care of Liz was laughable until I re-focused on the flinty eyes and biting grip of this double agent.

“I can count on you to do the same for Nathaniel?”

I grinned at her hardball methods. “We have an understanding, Farrow.”

Blondie entered the conversation, rubbing his hand over my shoulder. “I needed all the help I could get for you, honey. Farrow here took the heat off. Sometimes it takes a”—he paused, glancing at the D-P positioned in his hand, silently ticking off seconds before finishing—“village.”

A series of thunderous explosions rent the air, rocking the ground underfoot. I steadied myself while the rest of them looked unfazed. He nodded in satisfaction and carried on. “She’s a sister in the Revolution. You are my only lover.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” I brushed him off. “Never mind that stuff.” Another shock wave rolled over ground and through the sky, bringing big black clouds with it. “What the hell was that?” I pointed.

“TNT,” Liz responded.

Farrow watched dense gray smoke cruise across the treetops. “Some tear gas.”

“Bunch more hillbilly dynamite,” Blondie said.

“But who—?” I asked.

“As I was sayin’, sometimes it takes a village.” He started guiding me from the clearing.

Liz piped up from behind, “Freelanders, Revolutionaries.”

Farrow fell in step. “Don’t forget the spies.”

Their words beat a good rhythm to our retreat.

Jogging in the opposite direction of the Brier, I heard Farrow again. “A little technique perfected on the water plants.”

“What?” I halted.

“We’ll get into that later, big man. We gotta hustle.”

I stood my ground. “Oh, we’re gonna get into a lot later.” My suggestive smirk faltered with the echoing pop-pop of pistols, the rat-a-tat of automatics. “We have to help!”

Blondie blocked my retreat. “No more playin’ the hero.”

“The casualties—”

“There won’t be any. We’ve taken out the Outpost. Stragglers will be shot on sight.”

I cranked my hands to the back of my neck. “This changes everything.”

“For good.”

Knowing what I was committing to, being an outlaw, a Revolutionary, I nodded. “For the good of the people.”

*  *  *

Running at a fast clip in the direction of Fort Knox, we maintained a close huddle, sticking to the dark woods. As much as I was glad to see Liz, relieved she was alive and safe, I was desperate to get Blondie alone. Every step sent a painful bounce through my cock and a muttered curse from my lips.

He hung back. “You okay, big man?”

He knew I wasn’t peachy fucking keen. His eyes dancing, he wet his lips.

I jerked him to me by his collar. “I need to get my hands on you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, are ya?”

Sucking on the muscled cords of his throat, I stroked his ass and swatted it. “No. I have to touch you. I need to make love to you, baby.”

In a husky drawl, he called out to the women. “You two go on ahead. We’ll meet you at the fort.”

So far gone I didn’t hear their teasing volleys, I scooped him up in my arms, tearing open his jacket, shoving his shirt up to his shoulders. “Yes.”

All that flesh, for me. Chills ran across his torso, and I chased them with my tongue. He was heavy in my arms, but I wasn’t gonna drop him, and I’d be damned if he was going back down into that cold snow.

His back arched and the muscles of his chest and abdomen clenched. I muffled my face in his armpit, laughing when he chuckled. Sucking down the virile scent of him, I licked the padded line of his ribs, carving every indent and jut of muscle. I made him lean back over my arm, yanking his pants low on his hips so I could get to his groin, the dusting of dark gold hair leading to the fabric-covered bulge of his crotch.

He caught my eye while I dipped my tongue under his waistband, landing unerringly on the tip of his cock as a fat drop of preejaculate emerged. “Mmm.” I murmured my appreciation.

Blondie stiffened, watching something behind me.

I went on full alert.

All he did was squint, but I got his message.

I shifted him with no sudden motions, my hand landing on the pistol hanging from his shoulder holster. His fingers brushed my hip as he palmed his second weapon.

I swung Blondie to his feet, and at the same time, we raised our guns, standing side by side as a wounded, bellowing Kale barreled toward us. He must’ve taken a hit during the explosions at the Outpost, because blood spread up and down his left side.

The recoils sent our shoulders together as we fired at him, my bullet buried in his heart, Blondie’s dead center in his forehead. I wanted to empty an entire cartridge into him, but that’d be a waste of good ammo.

Placing the gun in the back of my pants, I made sure Kale stayed down while I settled Blondie’s shirt back over his chest and buttoned his jacket. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sick of the close calls though.” He kept his piece pointed at the ground and we approached the dead bastard.

“Me too. Sure could do with some R & R.”

Using the toe of his boot, he rolled Kale over, nodding at our clean kill. “That’d be nice.”

I couldn’t resist a final kick to Kale’s ribs and a couple words instead of RIP. “Stay. Dead.”

If Liz’s appearance had been a mere interruption, Kale’s attack was a goddamn mood killer. Hours later, half a day away from the Outpost, Blondie dug around behind a giant old oak tree, swiping a fat layer of snow from a tarp to unearth the backpacks he’d hiked out for our escape. Mine was the same damn thing I’d left Alpha with eight weeks ago. A lifetime ago. Checking the contents, nice and neat the way I liked it, I closed my eyes when his lips landed on the nape of my neck.

“I got somethin’ for you.”

I spun around, only to smother my disappointment. It was my D-P. I looked at the thing like it was bugged, curling my fingers into my palm.

“G’on. It ain’t gonna bite you.”

“I don’t want any links to my past as a Corpsman.”

He stroked my face and spoke just like Eden. “You might, someday. Besides, I disabled the coms, unless you want it back on.” He waved it at me. “It has all your naturalist notes and pictures on it, remember?”

I took it reluctantly, touching the screen but not turning it on. I pocketed the thing and bent back over my pack.

“You expectin’ somethin’ else?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Huh.”

When I strained around, he looked genuinely perplexed, rubbing his jaw, the rasp of his softwhiskers carrying over to me.

Standing in front of him, I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, actually, I was waiting for something else. And you know exactly what it is.”

“I do?” He stepped back.

I strode forward. “I want my ring back, baby.”

His smile breaking free, his face lit up. “That’s more like it.”

Mine went dark when he dropped to his knees again.

One knee, to be precise.

Bewildered, hating him down there below me, I reached for him. “Get up. I can tie my own damn bootlaces.”

That brought an even wider smile to his face, and holy shit, he was gorgeous. The uncaring mask completely dissolved, his emotions shining clear and true. “Ain’t tryin’ to tie your laces, honey. Talkin’ about tying a different kind of knot.”

His hand went to his breast pocket and reappeared with the ring sitting in his palm. “This is how they used to do it, Caspar. How a man would propose.”

I didn’t mind my heart pounding, or my ears ringing, or the way my lungs constricted this time. My hands shook and my eyes swam. “You asking for my hand?”

“Not yet. Give me a second.” He tried to keep up that smile, but it was hard with his lips trembling. Opening my hand, he stroked each of my fingers, fitting our palms together.

He poised the ring at my fingertip. “Will you marry me, Caspar Cannon?”

This time he didn’t wait for an answer. He slid the band home. I reeled him up, stating between kisses that started with his jaw and ended at his mouth, “Yes, yes. ’Course I will. You know I will. I love you, Nathaniel.”

Right then, with our arms around each other and our mouths meeting chastely with brushes of lips and murmured words of hope and future, there were a lot more important things than a victory fuck.

We just stood there, being together in the cold, but it couldn’t get ahold of us. Not this time. Not after what we’d been through, what we’d fought for.

Each other.

Our lives.

Freedom.

Love.

Tilting my face up, he kissed me with sweet, moist presses from one corner to the other. “Feel better?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I nuzzled his neck, working down to the big tendons of his shoulder. “Think we might wanna get a move on, though.”

“You scared your delicate parts are gonna get frostbitten?” He smirked.

“No, I’m afraid your dick might freeze and fall off; then what would I do?” I winked.

Not content to be out in the cold, and definitely not thrilled about remaining within spitting distance of the Outpost, we didn’t slow down until Fort Knox loomed ahead. Its boxy night-black bulk illuminated from within, fires and candles lit by Liz and Farrow holed up inside.

Jumping the fences, we landed on a thinning patch of hard-packed snow.

A new standard flew from the flagpole, its colors flapping brightly, its message clear. Live in Freedom. Love at Will.

The hopelessness that had dragged me under last time we’d parked it here was a thing of the past, a past I’d finally let myself remember—and let go.

I tugged Blondie’s hand. “C’mon, baby. Let’s join the Revolution.”

*  *  *

On a cold, clear December morning, Blondie and I and Liz and Farrow returned to the commune.

The daily hustle and bustle was just beginning. Kids were on their way to the schoolhouse, workers to the munitions or greenhouse gardens, the medic center or the tannery. Weary to our bones, we walked through it all, my arm slung around Blondie’s waist and his about my shoulders, Liz and Farrow taking point.

The whisper of our quiet return spread from boy to woman, from the farmers to the healers, from the mess to the armory. Fences were vaulted, doors flung open, the schoolhouse emptied until it felt like the entire damn village surrounded us with cheers and congrats led by Hills.

I didn’t want to let Blondie go. There were too many people swarming around us. Well-wishers all, but it was overwhelming, and I was worried about him. He’d been through the shit-mill, brave-facing it for the Company, taking on the responsibility of freeing me, locating Liz, organizing the takedown of the Outpost. Not to mention my prissy bitch routine when, instead of putting a bullet in the back of my head, he’d bared his heart and soul to me.

I had to admit loving me wasn’t exactly a vacation.

I had to wonder if my love was enough.

So when we were welcomed back to the Chitamauga Commune, I didn’t know where the hell I fit.

The swag of his eyelashes brushing the gold skin of his cheeks, he clamped his hand on my shoulder when I started moving away. “You got a pressin’ appointment I don’t know about?”

“I just wanted to give you some space with your people.” I bluffed.

His hand sliding down my back, he gripped my hip. “Our people.” That y’all-don’t-wanna-fuck-with-me look fired up on his face.

I took the back slaps and handshakes and returned them tenfold. The feeling of belonging taking flight in my heart soared when a path parted in front of us.

Flyaway hair in a tumbling bun, freckles magnified by drops of tears. Frantic blue eyes searching for us. For him.

As Eden ran at Blondie, the grizzly man with his friendly mutt sidled up. “Y’all done good.”

Mother and son crashed together.

I focused on the dog’s damp muzzle in my palm, scratching until his hind leg hitched up and down.

His white whiskers twitching, the old man pushed me away. “You’re needed.”

Eden was waiting. “Get on over here, son.”

Awed by her embrace, I was held beside Blondie as Eden’s shoulders shook beneath our arms.

“I thought I’d lost both you boys, just like Lincoln.”

“Linc isn’t gone, Momma. We’ll get him back.”

Patting a handkerchief to her eyes, she pushed up into our faces. “Now, that may be, Nathaniel. I wish it so. However”—she swapped the hanky for the hitting hand she used on both our skulls—“y’all ever do anythin’ like that again—servin’ yourselves up to the Company—I’m like to wring both yer necks!”

“Ow, Momma!”

“Quit your complainin’. Go on. Git cleaned up. Caravan’s been waitin’ on ya.”

The Love Hovel had been spiffed up some since the last time we’d left it, fresh candlesticks, another layer of lace I was sure, and that big bed all made up. The toxically overdecorated two rooms still held some of the best memories of my life, but no memory could compare with the present.

As that realization slammed into me, I didn’t shut my eyes or wait for the bottom to drop out of my gut. Hell, I didn’t even worry. Instead, I led my lover to the edge of the bed and watched him stretch onto it. All the coiled grace of a predator, the dark sensuality of a satyr.

“Hey, you okay?” His eyes gleamed, a light grin teasing me with the barest dip of his dimples.

I leaned in and flicked his earring, nuzzling my nose into the soft razor-cut sides of his hair. When I lifted his hand, I kissed each knuckle in turn, loving the hardness of his flesh, the all-man flavor of his skin. “Yeah. I’m just breathing in your goodness, baby.” I remembered the song he’d sung to me during the harvest festival.

“You gonna serenade me next?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Those dimples damn near delighting me, I swooped in to linger over one, then the other, laughter rumbling while he knocked me to my side.

We angled for just the right fit, mouths flitting together, tongues flirting shyly. “Reckon I already did that.” His rich, low drawl sounded against my ear. “Love you, Caspar.”

“I love you, too, Nathaniel.”

For the first time I had the best of both worlds—a mission to live for and a man to love.