The Thrust (19 page)

There wasn’t much else to do, until Trent returned from Grand Central with intel about how they would move forward. How they would kill Colonel Lanche.

“How ’bout this one?” Jenna asked, opening up a window to let some light in. A mouse scurried away. Dust covered the furniture. Whoever had lived here had left in a hurry.

She wondered where they were now. If they were even alive.

“It’s just like the last two,” Barker said. “Perfectly fine.”

“You have no woman’s intuition,” she teased. “It has to pass the Jenna Test.”

Barker grinned. “Oh really.”

“Yup.” Jenna pushed him back onto the couch, which had a bit of a mildew odor to it. “It’s gotta be fuckable.”

“The house has to be fuckable?” Barker shook his head, but she knew he was used to how she thought.

“Yup.” Jenna pulled her top off, leaving her breasts bare, and straddled him.

He immediately took her nipple in his mouth and gently bit it.

Jenna threw her head back in ecstasy, moaning with pleasure.

“God, I love these tits,” he growled.

“My tits love you,” she gasped. “I mean, I love you.”

He laughed. “I love you too.”

Barker tugged his pants down and hauled her up, flipping her over the side of the couch so her ass was in the air.

She looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile. “Playing rough?”

“If you want me to.” He tugged at her pants until they were around her thighs, restraining her. “You better be wet for me.”

Jenna laughed, swaying her hips. “Or what? Will I get a spanking?”

Barker swatted her ass, once on each cheek, just enough so she felt the warmth meld into immediate pleasure.

“If I wasn’t wet before I sure am now,” she laughed. “See for yourself.”

Barker slid his fingers over her pussy and moaned in appreciation. “I guess this house is fuckable enough for you, then.”

“Mmmm. Won’t know for sure until you make me scream your name,” she taunted playfully.

With a low, guttural sound, Barker thrust into her wet pussy, filling her completely. After all their time together, his size still shocked her.

“Ohhhh my God,” she moaned, stilling to let her body accommodate his girth.

“That’s right,” he murmured, thrusting inside her, in and out. Dust rose and settled with each pounding movement, lit up like sparkles in the sunlight streaming through the open window.

“I could fuck you forever,” she said. “Let’s do that. Let’s just stay right here and fuck forever.”

Barker reached around and grabbed hold of her swollen clit, pinching it rhythmically in time to his strokes. Jenna’s climax climbed through her and the intense energy seemed to shoot out her toes, her fingers, everywhere. Her whole body quaked beneath Barker and she cried out his name into the still air.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Barker said, speeding up, his thrusts fast and uncoordinated as he lost control and just fucked her as hard as he could.

Jenna squirmed in pleasure under him, loving the feel of his chest against her back, of his hips slamming into her ass and thighs.

He came with a cry and collapsed on top of her, covering her with his muscular body.

Somewhere in her peripheral vision, Jenna saw the mouse watching them with tiny, curious eyes.

“I think we found a winner,” she declared. “Let’s call it home.”

“All right.” Barker helped her up, pulling up his pants with a grin.

“But we really should do something about that mouse. It likes to watch.”

Barker laughed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her. “You know what I want, to make this house really perfect?”

“What’s that?” Jenna threw her shirt on, rearranging her clothes.

“To live in it as husband and wife.” Barker paused, as if waiting for her response.

Jenna laughed, accustomed to his teasing. “No, really, what do you want?”

Barker frowned and got down on one knee, the old floorboard creaking under him. “I’m serious, Jenna. I love you. You love me. Let’s make it official. We could do it after things get settled with Grand Central.”

“You . . . you’re serious?” Jenna didn’t know what to think. Of course she wanted to marry Barker—she loved him. But she didn’t realize that was what he wanted to, not until . . . well, right this moment. With him on his knee before her.

“I’m serious,” Barker said. “Jenna, will you marry me?”

Jenna squealed with delight and got down on the floor too, so she could tackle him with a hug.

“Of course! Yes. Yes yes
yes
.” She pressed her face against his. The enormity of what had to happen with Grand Central, before they could even think about tying the knot, hit her hard. “Do you think . . . is Trent okay? We’re gonna fix this, right?”

Barker hugged her tightly. “God, I hope so.”

Back at Grand Central

TRENT

Trent tried to
blend in with the other soldiers standing against the wall in the main terminal. People were talking.

He strained to hear the three soldiers standing not far from him who were exchanging news.

“Do you think we’ll get executed too?” one soldier asked, his voice high with panic.

Who the fuck got executed?

Please, don’t say it was Evan.

“Hernandez was the one who attacked Scar, not us. We were all asleep,” the other soldier said. But he sounded nervous too.

Who was Hernandez?

“Lanche hasn’t executed Evan yet, so we have a good chance,” one said. “Evan is just as guilty as Hernandez, from what I heard.”

Trent breathed a sigh of relief. Evan was alive, but for how long? He didn’t like how the soldier said Evan hadn’t been executed
yet
.

Evan was probably locked up, or being interrogated. Trent walked briskly down the corridors until he found the place where Annie said Evan had been held once before. A supply closet they’d turned into a dungeon.

The door was open. Trent stuck his head inside, grimacing at the stale odor of urine and sweat. Chains lay on the floor, bolted to the ground.

Fuck. Where did they take Evan?

Trent had memorized the way to the OCC, so he went there, focusing on not looking anyone he passed in the eye. He wanted to be as low-profile as possible.

There was no one guarding the door to the OCC. When Trent put his ear to the door, he realized it was because the guards were most likely inside, guarding their prisoner.

Trent heard a low wail, followed by a man’s deep voice. It had to be the Colonel.

“Private Hernandez already told us everything. I know you were in on it,” Lanche growled.

“Where is Hernandez?” a boy responded. Evan.

“Executed, of course. But I couldn’t do it in public. Can’t have our citizens thinking there’s strife among the soldiers.”

“He’s . . . he’s dead? You killed him?”

“Give me one reason not to kill you too, son.”

Trent stood flat against the door, praying no one would come by and see him eavesdropping. But he had to know what was happening.

“I didn’t do anything,” Evan said, so softly Trent could barely hear the words.

“Scar was on top of you when Private Hernandez attacked him. Hernandez told us that Scar raped you.” To Trent’s surprise, the Colonel laughed. “Is that true?”

“Ask Scar,” Evan said bitterly.

“I did. He’s doing much better, no thanks to you. Pulled him out of the infirmary so he could see his attacker get justice. And Scar . . . Scar said you invited him to visit you.
You drew him into a trap to have him killed, didn’t you?
” Lanche screamed, and Trent could only imagine the look of terror on the boy’s face. He felt terrified himself.

“I swear, I didn’t want Scar to come. I told him to leave, I tried—”

There was a scuffle, and Evan cried out.

“Get him out of my sight. I’ll deal with him after dinner.”

Trent jumped away from the door, rounding the corner so he was out of the way. He could hear the guards—two of them—speaking roughly to the boy as they dragged him down the hall.

“You’re going back in the hole,” one said.

Evan didn’t respond.

Trent would wait, and then he would have to try and get Evan out . . . before Lanche decided to kill Evan, too.

Letliv, Connecticut

CLARISSA

Something didn’t feel
right. Clarissa never should have let Trent go back by himself. What if he ran into trouble? What if he needed help?

There was no way for them to communicate.

Having him so far away while she was left behind didn’t sit well with her. Not when so much was at stake. And especially not when Trent’s life was on the line.

She wasn’t sure what they had going between them, but it wasn’t something she was willing to lose. Not by failing to be there for him when he needed her most.

He needed her now, she could feel it in her bones.

That feeling . . . she’d had it once before, back when she was working the evening-rush shift at the diner. One of her customers, a woman on what appeared to be a first date, ran into the bathroom, and she didn’t look right. Clarissa had followed her in and realized the woman was choking, her lips turning a sickly shade of blue.

Clarissa had done the Heimlich maneuver on her and a piece of watermelon from the fruit salad Clarissa had served her only minutes before shot out of the woman’s throat, landing several feet away on the shiny white tile floor. Later, the lady told her that she’d known she was choking, but she was embarrassed and had hoped to handle it herself in the bathroom without making a fool of herself in front of her date.

She would have died on that bathroom floor, alone, if Clarissa hadn’t followed her gut. Her gut telling her that something wasn’t right.

Now, she knew something wasn’t right with Trent, either.

Clarissa went to the market to see everyone, needing to hear what they thought. Soon a proper meeting had set up by the central bulletin board on Main Street.

Barker agreed with Clarissa. “It couldn’t hurt to take the supply truck down to the camp, have a lookout waiting by the exit Clarissa and Trent used. If Trent escapes with Annie and tells us it will be a while before we should go back, then so be it.”

Clarissa cut in. “But if he needs us now, there’s no way for him to tell us, other than traveling all the way back here, and then having us all travel back with him. We’d lose a whole day.”

One of the women spoke up. “What’s one more day? It’s been weeks.”

“I don’t think we clearly thought through the ramifications of dropping those pamphlets,” Clarissa said slowly. “Colonel Lanche will be looking for someone to blame. And the blame is bound to fall on Annie’s shoulders, since she was my roommate on the Tracks.”

At the mention of Trent’s sister, a murmur went through the crowd.

“What if we drive all the way down to the camp, and Trent doesn’t need us?” someone asked.

“Then we head back,” Barker answered. “The truck has a full tank of gas. We should be okay.”

“We shouldn’t have let Trent go back alone,” Clarissa said. “It was a bad decision since we have no way to communicate, and traveling there takes several hours even with a vehicle. I’m just proposing we go for backup.”

“If the army sees us, they’ll attack,” a man said. “And the Colonel and his men could go into hiding to avoid confronting us.”

True. It was a risk. But the bigger risk was in letting Trent, Annie, and Evan stay in enemy territory with no backup.

“We’ll stay out of view of the camp,” Clarissa said. “I’ll sneak in and find him. If we need backup, we’ll figure out a signal. A way for me to tell you guys to come, to be ready to fight. And you’ll be so close by, not three hours away.”

“We won’t be able to signal you for help if you’re all in Letliv,” Barker added.

Emily nodded. “I’m in.”

Mason took her arm and repeated the sentiment.

“What kind of signal will you use?” Emily asked Clarissa. “It has to be something distinct.”

A plan formed.

They would be there to help Trent rescue his sister, and free the people at Grand Central.

Clarissa just hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

I can’t lose you now, Trent.

Grand Central, the closet

EVAN

Evan was once
again in chains.

He just kept waiting for the guards to come back for him, for them to execute him—like they had done to Hernandez.

Did they even know he was the one who’d distributed the pamphlets? Or was this all about Scar?

There was a sound by the door, and the handle jiggled but didn’t open. He drew back as far as he could in the limited space. Why didn’t they open the door and take him, already? What were they doing?

Someone’s picking the lock
, Evan realized. Not a guard. Couldn’t be. One of the other soldiers? What was going on?

Suddenly the door opened, and a low moan of terror escaped Evan’s throat. It was a soldier, but he couldn’t make out who. Just the uniform, and the rifle.

“Who are you?” Evan rasped, pressing his back to the wall.

“Evan?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Evan asked again, his terror growing by the minute.

The man dropped to his knees and peered into Evan’s face in the dim light. “My name is Trent. I’m Annie’s brother.”

“Holy shit,” Evan whispered. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to get you, Annie, and everyone else out of here. But I need to get some information from you first.”

“You’re from Letliv,” Evan said. God, he wanted to go to Letliv. With Annie. “They’re probably going to execute me soon.”

Trent froze. “How soon?”

“I think—Lanche said he’d get to me after dinner. I don’t know why they didn’t do it yet, to be honest—they’ve already killed another soldier who helped me.”

“It’s almost time for evening rations,” Trent murmured. “Maybe they’re waiting until after, when everyone is back in their sleeping quarters.”