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Next book in the OFF THE RAILS Ice Era Chronicles
RAIDEN OUT THE STORM
https://books2read.com/u/3yZkjv
In a post-apocalyptic frozen world, Raiden becomes tied to Ashley Winsor, the mean and insulting rival harvester. To make matters worse, Ashley’s best friend Stone is along for the ride as they race through the dystopian underground world to cut the ties that bind them.
Stone is in love with Ash and hopes to get rid of Raiden once they reach H.S.P.C. headquarters. Ash is hoping to get rid of both men once she arrives. Hiding her gender as a woman extracts a price on her soul but disguising herself as a man has kept her alive. Raiden discovers these two people may be the only thing he loves on this ice bound Earth.
Together the three face an icy trek that winds them through subterranean tunnels filled with trains, angry harvesters and hungry polar bears. Each new danger helps them to discover where they stand with one another. As the threesome move ever closer to their destination they realize how close they have become, but passion may not be enough to keep them together.
Once they arrive at the journey’s end a decision will be made... Raiden will either be the man who destroys their fragile relationship or becomes the harvester Ash and Stone need to love.
––––––––
Place: Train car on Bilander in the Northern Earth Dens, C.T.O.N.A.
Time: 2:10 a.m.
Shock made his hands tremble so hard that he struggled to open the door to the next train car. Raiden jiggled his pack to hide the telltale sign as he entered the walkway. He didn’t want any of the other harvesters to mark his distress. Showing any weakness on a harvester train was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
As he marched forward, his mind refused to believe he was irrevocably tied to Ash Winsor. Raiden wasn’t up to solving the complex puzzle of the woman who dressed as a man and was the toughest son-of-a-harvester on any train that ran underground. He should just go back and demand Weaver undo whatever he had done to tie them together.
“Helvete,” he swore as he rubbed his neck. He tried to ease the perpetual ache in his shoulders. Glancing around the hall, he paused near the sleeping quarters. Someone had haphazardly stacked crates in the narrow passage. Raiden didn’t want to go back the way he came in case he ran into Winsor. Was he running away? No. He just needed a second to think.
Raiden decided to squeeze past the leaning tower. As soon as he got halfway beyond the containers, his mammoth pack snagged on a particularly jagged piece of wood. Struggling to free the fabric, he stopped when it became evident that he’d made the situation worse. His hands dropped down in defeat.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Not only was he bound to Ash Winsor, but he was also trapped in a hallway. He wiggled his pack again. He couldn’t deal with any of this. Not when he had other problems to tackle. He had to send money home to his father. In the back of his head, Raiden pictured the vacant grin his father always had whenever life went wrong. Is that what Raiden was doing now? Fuck that. No grin was on his face.
Raiden scanned the closed doors of the lodgings on both sides of the aisle as he shifted again. Two men came out the exit next to him. Their eyes flipped to his bag hung up on the cartons. They chuckled as they left through the opposite door. Raiden shook his head. Finding a place to think on a train full of gambling harvesters was next to impossible. If he had a key to a private room, then maybe, just maybe, he could hide there and reason out this problem. Hiding wasn’t an option, especially jammed next to wooden boxes, so he just stood in the walkway of the last train car before cargo.
Taking a deep breath, he tipped his butt on the slats and slumped next to the items. Reaching behind him, he yanked on the thick canvas of his bag. Nothing happened. Two huge men came out of the quarters to his right. He noted that a game of Boxcar Dice was in full swing. No one paid him any attention. That was fine with him. Chances were decent they wouldn’t help him get loose but rob him instead. Not that he had anything for anyone to steal. He’d sold all of his trekking gear for food. They disappeared through the door he’d just entered. He exhaled relief.
As he watched the harvesters exit, his mind jumped to the tall Indian. He should go back into that other car and insist that Weaver undo whatever mystical thing he did to connect him to Ash Winsor. Was this a forever connection? Would he be with Ash until he died? Were they married?
Raiden glared like he could produce his ex-friend with merely an angry stare. His bones throbbed in protest, but he disregarded the ache in his joints. Instead, he slipped one arm out of his right strap. He started to loosen the other band on his shoulder. Again, the dull twinge in his joints returned. He’d had the pain since he’d turned twenty-five. The soreness was never going to change, and he’d long ago accepted the agonizing pounding. He tried to concentrate on his bag. After a few seconds, he dropped his forehead into the fabric. He wasn’t getting free anytime soon.
When the bag refused to give, Raiden reached for the jagged lumber. Once he could move down the hallway, should he go on to cargo or go back to see Weaver? He could tell Weaver he didn’t even like Ash. Didn’t Weaver and Nova see them insulting each other at Laying Odds? Raiden refused to spend the rest of his life in Winsor’s shadow. She already had two shadows, Morgan-Roth and Stone. What would she need another one for?
Just as he heard the fabric start to tear, the farthest door opened.
Doug took up the entrance. Raiden yanked harder as his eyes met Doug’s. Helvete. Not him, not now.
“There’s my Mutt.” Doug snickered as he strode forward. He leaned on the planks further holding Raiden hostage. The strap clinging to Raiden’s bicep dug in as if in league with Doug. Raiden averted his head when the abusive harvester shifted even closer.
“I’m not yours. I’m not a dog, no matter how many people call me Mutt.” Raiden’s eyes flipped to the other man. “I meant it when I said I’m done.”
“I’ll tell you when we’re done.” Doug’s breath fanned his cheek. Again, Raiden tipped his head back as far as he could.
“I’m not making any more deals with you.” Even if he hadn’t broken away from his prostitution-type relationship with Doug earlier, he would still have to do it now. Weaver had decided to change Raiden’s life, and there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of ways he could put it back the way it was. Not that he wanted to go back to Doug. No matter what happened, never again would Raiden end up in the same predicament with the foul harvester. He’d fight before he would let Doug have him back.
Raiden put his hands up to push at Doug’s chest. The man didn’t lean back even an inch. The familiar aching twinge in Raiden’s knuckles had his hands dropping. The same sense that told him when a storm was coming told him Doug was a threat. He knew that even without the on-again off-again gift. Raiden could feel the connection in his bones demanding that he run screaming from Doug and cling to Winsor. He wanted Ash. Doug repulsed him in a whole new way. Raiden had changed the second Weaver united his heartstrings to Ash Winsor. Doug was history, whether the man wanted that or not.
“When my dick’s getting sucked, you’ll find that I’m a good friend, Mutt.” Doug leaned close again, and Raiden could smell his rank breath and unwashed clothes. He didn’t have time for this.
“You were never a good anything.” Raiden struggled against the stacks, and another inch of his bag split. He’d have to get another one, not that he had the money to do so. He looked over his shoulder at the damage.
“But if you think I’ll be nice to you now.” Doug swung. The punch landed square in the center of Raiden’s stomach. Raiden wasn’t prepared for the blow. He didn’t have time to block. “You’ll find out I’m not.”
Raiden gasped for breath. The strike momentarily knocked the wind out of him. Raiden cursed the tight space and underestimating the other man. Doug’s meaty fists grabbed his shoulders and forced him upright. The harvester shoved him hard to the wooden frames.
Doug drew back for the second hit. Before he struck, the door behind him opened. He paused as his eyes flew to the entry.
Ash stood motionless before them. Her silver eyes were the only thing that moved. She glared at Doug as Raiden’s shoulder surged with pain. Around her eyes, red rings had formed, and her nose and cheeks were puffy. She looked like she’d been crying. Winsor crying? That would be like seeing a polar bear dancing.
“Doug,” Ash snapped. It wasn’t a greeting. The name was cloaked in a sneer with abject hatred hiding just under the surface. She stepped next to Raiden but didn’t acknowledge him. Fanken. She would let Doug pummel him.
“Look who it is.” Doug’s fist dropped as his eyes flipped over Ash’s short black hair. “King of the assholes.” The beefy man gave a mocking bow, and then his eyes popped to Raiden’s. “Mutt and I were just talking about how life for him would be better on his knees.” Doug’s huge muscles rippled along his arms. He yanked on Raiden’s pack, shredding the wedged strap.
Raiden stumbled and then caught himself before he hit the wall. He straightened and pulled on what was left of his other strap. His eyes narrowed at the malicious harvester.
Doug took a step closer. “Come on, Mutt, heel.” Doug pointed to the floor at his side, an action which wasn’t new to Raiden.
Raiden didn’t have time for this snowblower right now. He only had the energy to deal with Ash. One snowblower at a time.
Ash placed her hand on Raiden’s chest. The soft pressure was off from her ordinarily surly nature. Her palm was warm. He hated it. The light touch made him feel alive. Weaver categorically fucked them up on a few levels. She pushed slightly, and Raiden leaned back until he was pressed against the wall. She went toe to toe with Doug.
Winsor obviously wasn’t afraid of the other man even if Doug was known to be a real mean fighter. The harvester was a few inches taller than her, but she tipped her chin up and scowled. For a second, Raiden had the urge to protect her. He clamped down on the unfamiliar feeling as his heart tugged toward her. No way. He wasn’t about to coddle Ash Winsor.
“Mutt’s got business with me. You wanna go? Cause I’ll slice you from stem to stern then hang you like fleam.”
That sounded much more like the Ash Winsor that Raiden knew. She probably wouldn’t even appreciate his help. King Winsor had a stronger reputation than he did. He would only act if Doug hurt her. Raiden knew from the last year of trekking with the other man that the harvester was capable of violence.
“You’re blocking the hall,” Doug muttered. Raiden had never seen Doug back down before. Ash was known and respected. For the first time, Raiden wondered what she did to earn that mixture of admiration and fear.
“Sod off.” Ash thrust her heavy coat back to reveal a gun on her hip. The pistol wasn’t a small weapon either. “Raiden’s with me now.”
Doug mumbled a curse under his breath and then backed up until he squeezed next to the boxes. When he got to the far door, he hurried away like Ash might shoot him in the back. Raiden thought Ash looked like she considered it.
“Is that real?” Raiden couldn’t contain the awe in his voice even though he tried.
“Why would I carry a fake gun, slush-head? What am I gonna do? Throw it at a polar bear?” she grumbled. “Let’s go.”
Raiden shouldn’t have asked.
“Go where?”
“We need to talk. Follow me.” Ash produced a key to her private room. It dangled from her fingertips. Of course, she had a key. Ash Winsor was a king on these trains. Correction, queen. Raiden hesitated.
Ash glared. “Now, Mutt.”
She reached for the door next to her. Her sharp chin rose, and she commanded him like a dog. If she thought he would merely follow silently, she had the wrong idea. He’d just dumped Doug for this reason. He wasn’t going through that again. He wasn’t Stone, and she could threaten however much she wanted, but he refused to crawl for her. He had a spine. He wasn’t a shadow. Raiden might be easygoing, but when it came to her, he wanted nothing more than to tell her to get lost.
“Sit on it and spin.” Raiden whirled away from her, but her hand grabbed the back of his long leather coat. Her slim fingers looked fragile where they dug in near his waist.
“What do you want? An engraved invitation? Stop being a dribbling wanker. We aren’t talking in the hall. You wanna meet Doug again?”
Raiden glowered. He wasn’t sure what a “wanker” was, but he had the idea it wasn’t a compliment. He opened his mouth to tell Ash to suck a Siberian sheep, but before he could, a door opened behind him.
A group of harvesters picked up the boxes. The noise level tripled as they laughed, talked, and clattered crates.
“Fine.” He wasn’t about to tell her that she was correct. Having a conversation in the hall was a bad idea. He was pleasantly shocked. She didn’t push it. Instead, she spun around and opened the door behind her.
Raiden wiggled his stiff shoulders and then shook his pack. He wanted to leave just because she was so sure he would follow, but that competitive streak he had around her chose this moment to strike. If Ash Winsor could deal with this problem, then so could he. He had to face the idea that they might have to be together. There was no way Raiden would stick his head in the snow. He would hear Ash out.
Raiden gripped the strap on his pack as he entered her sleeping compartment. At this point, he could do one of two things. He could fight their connection, or he could accept it. His mom always said, “Kun, attack is the secret of defense, defense is the planning of attack.” She would tell him to figure out the problem and then fight for what he wanted. As a child, she’d continually pestered Raiden that he was too relaxed about life. He’d disappointed her at every turn. That might have been her Japanese heritage talking, but it also might’ve been that he was more comfortable following along than leading. He’d never considered that a flaw, but she did.
The sleeping compartment they entered had pinned-up movie posters and book pages attached to every available space on all four walls. He slipped his pack off his back and set it next to a cot plump with blankets and pillows. A British flag was draped near the door to the toilet room. So, this is where Ash lived? It looked like the rest of the train, just a little cleaner. Raiden had the notion the room would be pink or have pictures of flowers because she was a woman. Dumb.
Ash dropped her pack and then wrapped her arms around her waist. He tipped his head to the side. Fanken, but pity enfolded him. She looked crushed. Big, bad Ash Winsor looked defeated. He wanted to comfort her. Screw Weaver. He had done this to him. Weaver had given him... what? Emotions? Love for Ash?
Before today, Raiden didn’t care about anything other than sending HOCs back to the water base for his sick dad. If his father were here, he’d say, “He who enters the game must endure it.” Dad would tell him to stay, give in, bend. If he didn’t oppose the match, he could learn to live with Winsor. That felt a little too much like grabbing his ankles. He wasn’t a trained dog, and he refused to let Ash lead him around like an animal on a leash. His father allowed his mother to run his life; then she left him. She left him in pieces, and he’d let her go in silence while she picked another man. That wasn’t going to be Raiden’s future. Especially after he had seen the devastation it had caused. If anyone would leave, he would. Whatever had to be done, he’d do it. Raiden had never thought being relaxed was a bad thing up until now. Now he couldn’t sit back and watch this unfold. Now was the time to listen to some of his mom’s advice.
Ash turned her back to him. She admired a poster of three men and a woman playing cards. She didn’t turn around and face him even though she was the one who wanted to get into their problem.
Raiden didn’t know what to make of her silence. He predicted an attack. Calling each other names is what they did. He was ready for the insults and the slurs. They would go back and forth about who was better. The swish of the train started to get under his skin. His eyes darted over a half-drawn child’s doodle and then landed on the black hairs that curled at the nape of her neck.
Feeling uncomfortable, he locked the door behind him and then crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t a doormat like his dad was, and he wasn’t a dog. If Winsor thought she could run him ragged, she would find out real fast he wouldn’t bend over and take it. He wasn’t afraid of her even if she did have a gun. He’d never been afraid of Ash Winsor, maybe begrudging admiration, and deeply buried sexual tension, but never fear.
After a few more minutes of grating silence, she slipped her hands through her coat and let the thick furs fall to the floor. The thump of the heavy fabrics was overly loud. She rubbed her arms and still didn’t turn around. The back of her in that enormous fluffy sweater gave him no clue as to her shape. She looked as barrel-chested as Doug. He began to assess her figure. When he realized he was hunting for her ass under all those layers, he mentally slapped himself.
Ash fiddled with the gun holster on her hip and then unstrapped a buckle from her thigh. The gun landed on the discarded jacket. She sighed. He stared at her ass until he realized he was doing it.
“I’m getting real tired of looking at your back, Ash. Face me like a man.”
“I’m not a man, and that stays between us, got it?” She spun around and pinned him with a steely look. “You tell no one, Mutt.” Some of her black hair flipped over her ears and onto her forehead. The dark locks softened her features and made her silver eyes shine. How the hell had he missed that she was a woman? Straight up dense. He was a slush-head. He should’ve seen her feminine qualities long before now.
She kept up the glare, yet a few tears tried to escape.
Well, this was off to a good start. He was attracted to her, even though he didn’t want to be, and neither one of them could speak civilly to each other. His mom would say, “stand your ground”; his dad would say, “cower.” He had the urge to follow her. He had to think, not just react. With Ash Winsor, nothing ever came easy. She was his own private puzzle.
“Calm down. I just meant if you want to talk, then I’m listening. I’ll give you a second.”
“Don’t say ‘calm down’ like I’m an overwrought twelve-year-old girl. I know what’s what. You’re a real ironclad dick-wagon. And you can take your second and shove it up your—”
A knock on the door startled him and cut off Ash. Maybe it was Weaver to say he would fix this. Perhaps his friend was wrong, and he didn’t belong to this woman. Raiden was positive he belonged to a woman who didn’t use bizarre put-downs. What was a dick-wagon anyway?
Ash opened the door a crack.
“What is it, Morgan-Roth?”
“Stone hasn’t returned yet. What do you want me to tell him when he gets back?”
Raiden’s brow knitted together as he surveyed Ash’s back. Stone was that young, handsome shadow that rarely left her side. He recalled that the pale stranger had gone as soon as Weaver lifted his magical tying-him-to-Ash spell he cast. He didn’t know what to expect of seeing the tall harvester again. Would Ash tell Stone that they were together now? The idea played over and over in his head. What would he say?
Ash groaned. He felt like groaning too.
“Blast it. I’ll deal with it later.” Ash closed the door.
Raiden had the feeling he would be dealing with it later too.
After the door was locked, Ash turned to face him. Her silver eyes met his green ones before they dropped to the floor. She tipped her head into her hands. Fanken. Now he melted like ice near a vent, all because of a handful of tears that shimmered in Ash’s eyes. He should’ve beat Weaver with an ax handle.
The urge to comfort her reared up and almost hijacked his body. He ruthlessly held his ground and planted his feet. His fingers tingled with a new mix of pain and the need to hold her. Raiden was used to the arthritis from his gift, but this sensation was different.
“Weaver said he’d unbind us if we left him and the red-eyed girl alone for the rest of the trip.” Ash lifted her head. “You left before he explained that.”
“If you leave him alone. I was fine with Weaver and Nova until you came busting in.” He didn’t know why he pointed that out. The desire to take Ash down, to soften her, never left him. Where did that even come from? He was supposed to be laid-back. She didn’t make him feel that way. Ever.
“We’re not slinging blame, you quacking-tit.” Her husky voice was sexy. Her insult... loony.
“You might not be, but I think it’s clear whose fault this is.”
“Are we gonna dump all over each other, or are we gonna figure this shite out?” Again, her voice made him measure how close they were to the bed.
Fan-fucking-tastic. He got hot with her voice. He swore that had never happened before. Raiden reminded himself repeatedly to keep his head together and his dick in his pants.
“I don’t want to figure any of this shite out. This might surprise you, but I don’t want to talk to you at all. I can’t live with you. This is a mess. I don’t even like you.” He had to argue with her, or he might let her order him around until she made him beg. He would be brushing her hair and feeding her grapes before long, just to hear her sexy voice again.
“This train ride went all to pot from the start. It’s a bloody mess, it is.” Ash’s shoulders fell, and she tipped her chin up. “I could live with you if I wanted. That’s not the point. I just want you to stay here and not tell anyone that I’m a woman. I want you to promise. Do you think you can do that, Mutt?”
If she called him “Mutt” one more time, he would shake her until her teeth rattled. Her words nudged him. She could live with him? Did she want to be with him? She didn’t say she didn’t want him.
The idea of Ash Winsor picking him of all people made him feel ten feet tall. Funny, but that had never been something he’d felt before. Pride had him lifting his head.
“What are you saying?” Raiden took a step closer. What was it about Ash that made him grind his teeth together, but at the same time, he wanted to impress her? His eyes dropped to her lips. He’d never noticed how pink they were. They looked smooth. No, no, no. He wanted to shake her, not kiss her. His eyes went back up to the shiny silver orbs. He needed to get the hell out of this room. Raiden needed air that didn’t smell like her skin. A second to clear his head would be ideal.
“I’m saying I want you to stay in this room for the remainder of the trip and not tell anyone I’m a woman. Seriously, does that spike in your ear block your hearing? Maybe I should give you a second. Obviously, you’re not the fastest train on the tracks.”
He wasn’t staying in a tiny room with her, especially with a bed less than a foot away. They’d talk, and then he would leave. Raiden ground his teeth, but again the sentence that she could live with him poked his ribs like a spring in an old mattress.
“I hear you,” he snapped. “I meant... you could live with me if you wanted to?” His stomach did a funny flip-flop. Would they have kids? Would she want to hold him at night? Would they fall in love? All those ideas were phantasmal. That wasn’t the kind of life Raiden ever pictured himself having, especially with someone like Ash.
“I could if I wanted. I can do what I want. I’m Ash Winsor.”
“Of course, you can,” Raiden said dryly. So, Ash was making a point. He should’ve expected that.
“Ash Winsor can do what he wants.” Ash’s eyes traveled down his face and landed on his mouth. “I don’t want to be attached to you though. I don’t like you.”
“I don’t like you either.”
Her tongue darted over her lips.
Raiden couldn’t believe it. His eyes widened. He hadn’t slept with a lot of women, mostly men, but he knew that look, and the gender wasn’t relevant. His cock swelled. One look? Really? She could turn him on with one look? Weaver would have hell to pay for this.
“Right.” Another lick of her lips. Skit.
“If I wanted to trek with you, I could.” Raiden tried to sound harsh to make his point that she didn’t get to call the shots, but his tone came out all wrong. His voice softened. He tried not to swallow his tongue.
“Oh, so you can trek with me? You’re a tough guy?” A sexy grin graced her lips. Was she laughing at him?
“I can do what I want. I’m Raiden Muttson,” he mocked. What would happen if he touched Ash Winsor? Where would this go? He took a step closer. Her body heat held that distinct scent, spicy and clean. It was simply curiosity. He inhaled deep.
“Here’s the deal, tough guy.” She gave a shrug, then another easy grin. Her eyes captured his. “I’m stronger than you are. I can handle when life gets tricky. You can’t.” She met him halfway. “You can’t keep up with me. You’d never be able to follow where I lead.”
Raiden felt like he was facing an avalanche.
“Can it, Ash. I can do whatever you can do.” One minute he was ready to slap that I’m-better-than-you look off her face and the next his hands snatched her shoulders. He should’ve never touched her, but it was too late now. He pulled her chest to his until her lips were a breath away. Her big sweater gave, and he could feel some of her curves. “I’m as strong as you are, and I could follow you wherever.”
He didn’t mean that he would follow her. Raiden was determined to prove he wasn’t afraid. He could handle big, bad Ash Winsor.
“I don’t like you,” she repeated, but she sounded like she reminded herself, not him. Her eyes studied his lips as her hands slipped to his shoulders. He let go of her arms long enough so she could push off his coat. The dense layers hit the floor with a thump.
“I don’t like you either.” Maybe they kept saying that because they wanted the words to be true.
“Traveling together would be a real blizzard. I’ve Stone to consider. He’s my best friend.” Her hands crept up his stomach under his heavy flannel and undershirt. They made a straight path to his nipples. Her warm palms stole over his pecs. He could feel his heart beat into her hand, and his breathing turned into a pant. The tingles under his skin magnified. The ache in his shoulders lessened.
“The shadow,” he breathed. The handsome stranger who’d started trekking with Ash about two years ago. He’d never seen her without him.
“Are you scared of Stone?”
“I’m not scared of anything you have going on, Ash Winsor. I never have been.” Raiden was losing the fight. He wanted her. Now.
“Are you saying you’re gonna follow me?”
“I’m not saying I’m going to follow you, Ash, but I’m staying here right now.”
“Stay and do what?” Ash lifted one eyebrow.
“I’ll give you a second to figure it out.” Raiden’s mouth dropped to her lips.
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