Seduced by Three (9 page)

Grace woke to a hard cock pressing into her ass and a warm palm covering one of her breasts. She snuggled in closer as the memories of the night before returned to her in a rush. Her throat constricted when she thought about how differently the night could have ended. But now, everything was silent and still. They all were safe. Van’s breathing behind her was slow and steady. He was still sleeping.

Stay…just for a little while longer.

She enjoyed the sense of peace and safety she felt within Van’s arms. Their breathing was synchronized, and she was toasty warm everywhere their bodies touched. It was Nirvana lying next to him here inside the shelter where he was safe. It was an answered prayer.

Still, knowing she had another important task to complete, Grace forced herself to slip out from under his arm. The cold air hit her skin, and all she wanted to do was crawl back in next to Van. But the shelter was transforming from utter blackness to dim shadow. That meant it was near dawn. She needed to get her ass moving before the sun rose fully. Grace grabbed a shirt out of her duffel and threw it on over her blood-encrusted body. A hiss escaped her lips when the material ran over the wound on her arm. She made an effort to look at it more closely. It was an angry, seeping mess that didn’t seem to be healing. It was also her final confirmation that she had no choice but to make another trip out of the shelter. She grabbed her gun and shrugged on the backpack that Sarge had used the night he brought her back there.

With an acute awareness that she was probably leaving on a suicide mission, Grace turned and looked at the two men she was leaving behind. She wasn’t afraid of dying. If she died on this trip, she’d have no regrets, because she was trying to save them.

With silent determination, she climbed the stairs and then listened for a few minutes before she pushed out on the false wall. As she exited down the back steps of the house, she looked to the sky and took in the beautiful, changing hues of blue and glimpsed a sliver of sun on the horizon. Most people were not up at this time, she tried to convince herself. It was probably pretty safe. She had to move fast.

After exiting the gate, Grace ran full speed through backyards, between houses, and across streets, zigzagging as if being pursued. The neighborhood was a ghost town. The dawn’s light revealed the open doors and broken windows of the houses she passed. The only sound she heard was the steady pace of her feet hitting the pavement. She gagged at the smell of rotting flesh and pulled her T-shirt up over her nose, trying to stop the stench from entering her nostrils. People were dying already.

In just minutes, she made it to the rear of a drug store. It was on the main street they’d been attacked on the night before, though it was farther south, away from where they’d been pinned down. Her chest heaved from the sprint, but now she was frozen with indecision. She swallowed hard while her mind wavered.

Now. Just do it.

Grace took a deep breath and jogged to the back entrance of the building. It was locked. She quickly ran around to the front and through the shattered glass doors. It looked deserted, but she was still cautious. The shards of glass underneath her boots crunched with each deliberate step as she entered the store, gun in hand.

The inside of the store was dark, shadowy. Looting had emptied most shelves. There was no food or water to be found here, but she was there for something else. Keeping her back against the wall, Grace pressed on toward the pharmacy. It had been trashed. There were bottles of pills and other medical supplies scattered over the floor and counters. All the drugs with any kind of street value at all, like pain killers, would be gone. She wasn’t even going to bother looking for something like that.

The search was slow. Reading the labels on the bottles was difficult in the shadowy darkness. She scanned what was left on the shelves thoroughly and couldn’t find what she was looking for. When she dropped to her knees and began to scan bottles and boxes on the floor, doubt began forming in her mind. There wasn’t anything of value left. Then she saw the foil-backed blister packs fanned out and trampled on the floor by the pharmacy drive-thru window. When she picked them up, she breathed a sigh of relief. Bingo. She hadn’t been looking for prepackaged pills, but antibiotics were antibiotics, and every one of those foiled sheets had a full course of lifesaving treatment. She scooped all the packs she could find and tossed them into the backpack.

Moving back through the store, she grabbed several packages of Tylenol, two tubs of baby wipes, and was about to put the backpack on when the clearance display of pool toys caught her eye. She grabbed a couple inflatable rafts and shoved them in the backpack, too.

Grace didn’t pause to check, she just bolted from the store, around the corner of the building, and back through the yards toward safety.

She hadn’t been gone long, maybe a half hour, but as she approached the shelter, she stilled and looked over her shoulder. Sarge had drilled into her that she had to be the most careful coming and going from the house. She listened and watched for a few minutes then ran full speed to the gate. Once in, Grace shot through the house and immediately into the shelter. She sat at the top of the stairs, huffing in air and looking down on the two sleeping men. She made it. She didn’t think she would. Grace had been fully prepared to die on this antibiotic run, but she knew Sarge and Van would die without it. She hadn’t had a choice.

Grace stood and descended the stairs and then emptied the backpack on the floor underneath the solar light. She chose three packs, one for Van, one for Sarge, and one for herself. She took hers first then returned to the men with a glass of water and their pills.

Grace went to Sarge first. She lifted his upper body off the bed and supported it by sitting behind him. She shook him gently and spoke into his ear.

“Sarge. Sarge, wake up.”

He opened his eyes for just a second before closing them again.

“Take this.” She put the pill into his mouth then lifted the water to his lips. He didn’t drink. “Wake up, dammit!” she yelled and shook him again. “Swallow the pill that’s in your mouth!”

Sarge opened his eyes, parted his lips, and leaned in toward the glass she had poised at his lips. He swallowed several times then closed his eyes again.

“Damn, girl, I think you actually managed to sound mean,” Van teased.

Grace turned. Van was still lying on his side, injured shoulder up in air.

“You’re next,” she said as she walked over to get his pills. “Take these. You’ll feel better.”

Van groaned as he tried to sit up. “What are they?”

“Antibiotics, Tylenol.”

He looked around. “Where are we?”

“In a shelter. You’re safe.”

He took the pills and lay back onto the cushions.

“Let me check my work while you’re awake and I have better light.” Grace got up and returned with fresh supplies and the tub of baby wipes. “The bullet went in and out. You lost a lot of blood, but you’re going to be all right.”

“How’s Sarge?”

“You’re in better shape than he is, but I think he’ll be okay, too. You saved his life last night. I wouldn’t have been able to get him home without you. Thank you for that.”

He flashed her a sexy smile. “Anything for you, Grace.”

Their eyes met, and she hesitated for a second before she started to remove his dressing. She’d been wrong. Green. His eyes weren’t blue, they were a gorgeous shade of green.

* * * *

Van lay with his eyes closed as Grace removed his dressing. She rubbed a cool, damp cloth around and gently over the wound, and then did the same with the exit wound on the back of his shoulder. His stomach churned and his head spun while she tended to him. He kept his eyes closed and swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth in an effort to cope with the nauseating symptoms.

When she was done with the dressing, she opened a container and pulled several wipes from it. The air in the room filled with the sweet, innocent scent of baby as she washed away the caked blood from his body. She began at his shoulder, cleaning him slowly, methodically over every inch of his back and arms.

Fuck, it felt good. The gentle way she handled him had his cock swelling in his boxers. It didn’t matter that he’d been shot. The desire he had for her was tenacious. It gripped him and held on tight, squeezing his cock like an invisible hand, Grace’s hand.

“Are you still with me?” Her tender, hushed voice slipped inside him and soothed his soul.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, Grace, I’m still with you.”

“When’s the last time you ate something?”

“I finished the last of my rations yesterday. But, I don’t think I could keep anything down right now.”

“Okay. Roll for me,” she said as she assisted his turn. “I have to do the front. When I’m done, I’ll leave you to rest.”

Van opened his eyes and grasped her arm loosely. “You don’t have to leave. I’ve been on my own for over a week. I’m enjoying your company.”

She quickly looked away from him without comment.

Van studied Grace’s profile as she gently laved his body with wipe after wipe. The short blonde hair tucked behind her ears emphasized her round, blue, ice-colored eyes and delicate nose. There was more in those eyes than just a pretty stare. There was a hint of shrewdness and wisdom there, like an old soul inhabited her young body. She fascinated him. He wanted to reach up and touch her face just to see how she would react. Any other woman would probably blush or smile at the intimate gesture, but he had a suspicion that her reaction would be different. It would be uniquely Grace, hard and soft at the same time. She presented an interesting dichotomy. Her insides didn’t match up with her outside. Inside she was tough, strong, and brave. Outside, her appearance and voice screamed weak and withdrawn.

Van lifted an arm and caressed his palm across her cheek. In response, Grace leaned her head into his hand, nuzzling it for a moment. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed his touch, caressing her cheek against his fingers. It was such a beautiful response to his simple gesture. He smiled at her, but she seemed intent on not looking at his face. She just kept at her task.

Van stared at the mountain of wipes on the floor next to Grace after she had finished cleaning him. His erection was throbbing. Without a word, she turned her back to him and stooped over the bed to care for Sarge in the same way that she’d just done for him. He ached as he watched her ass from his position on the floor while she tended to the other man.

He had to squash the impulse to grab her and pull her down onto him. Van’s erection was throbbing. He didn’t like her touching Sarge, and a surge of jealousy rushed through him. He found himself clenching his fists and throwing eye daggers at the unconscious man and was relieved when Grace finally finished with him and cleared away all of the bloodstained wipes.

Van’s eyes tracked her to the other side of the room. In the shadows, she pulled her shirt over her head and started wiping herself clean. The small white cloths she pulled out of the tub turned a rusty color as they stained with blood. She rubbed them over the white skin of her breasts and arms, revealing a little more of her perfection with every swipe. Her nipples were puckered, small and pink, and he could see the individual bumps in her spine when she bent over slightly. He longed to run his tongue down the hills and valleys of her vertebrae, leaving a wake of moisture behind to blow on.

Van was brought out of his fantasy by the sound of footfalls above him. He watched as Grace reacted to the sound of the intruder. She straightened and stood motionless, following the steady sound of footsteps through the house. Then she glanced at him. She smiled with cool assuredness reflected in her eyes, as if she were trying to wordlessly comfort him. She lifted a finger and touched it to her lips in a silent
shh
.

* * * *

Grace was naked from the top up when she heard footsteps overhead. She froze, listened, and then picked up her gun.

She looked at the two men on the other side of the room. Sarge was still out, but Van was already looking at her, and he seemed ready to jump from his makeshift bed. She motioned him to be quiet.

“Where’s my rifle?” he mouthed.

She walked over to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the rifle that lay among his flak jacket and other articles she’d stripped off him the night before.

“I got this,” she whispered. She handed him his rifle. “Just in case.”

A rustling noise at the top of the steps caught her attention. Grace moved toward the bottom of the stairs, off to the side so that the intruder wouldn’t see her right away. Grace lifted her gun and aimed toward the false wall that was slowly being pulled away.

It felt like she waited an eternity, withholding her shot
.

Her finger rested lightly on the trigger. Her heart thumped in her chest as she emotionally steeled herself to shoot another man.

“Sarge?” the intruder at the top of the stairs called. “Sarge, it’s me, Luke. Are you down there?”

Grace took her finger off the trigger but didn’t lower her gun. She stepped into the man’s field of vision.

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah. Who are you?” he asked as if she was the one who didn’t belong. After he stepped through the cubby hole, his eyes lowered to her nude upper body.

“Put the wall back up,” she ordered, still pointing her gun at him.

“Where’s Sarge?” The man’s tone became menacing.

“He’s here. Now put the damn wall back up!” she shot back.

Luke followed directions and then proceeded slowly down the stairs. Grace stepped away and moved over to her clothes. She slipped her shirt on, knowing that Van was covering the man as he neared the bottom of the steps.

Luke caught sight of Sarge and Van. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you people?” He walked over to the bed and immediately started to look Sarge over. “What happened?” He turned to Grace. “What happened?” the man demanded again. He was becoming aggressive, and Grace second-guessed lowering her gun. Then he stopped and cocked his head. He stared at her for a moment. The expression on his face softened. “You’re Ethan’s daughter.”