Underground 4 (20 page)

“Quite the drop,” Seamus murmured with a grimace.

Garrett nodded his agreement.

“You really think you're going to be able to make that jump?”

They both stepped back, looking from one roof to the other.

“I gotta tell ya, mate, if you're not completely sure of this, I wouldn't do it. You miss, you're dead.”

“I know,” he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It's the only way though. I need to be able to see inside.”

“I can go up on that roof using the fire escape,” Seamus suggested. “Let me do this and you can stay here. I'll just say I'm patrolling the roof too. I'm sure I'll recognize old man Samson if I see him again.”

Garrett looked over at him, and seemed to be considering it. He prayed he'd go for it, because he really didn't want to clean up his friend’s remains off the ground should this go wrong.

“Maybe you have a point,” he finally said, giving in. “What I need is a uniform myself.”

“What? That's not what I said.”

He walked away, Seamus trailing after him.

“No, but it makes more sense.” He turned to him abruptly, Seamus almost crashing into him. “Give me your uniform and wait here. I'll go and meet you back here.”

Seamus stepped back, shaking his head. “No way, that's not a good idea. The other guys already know me. If I don't come back from here they're going to start to wonder what happened. I'll go. You stay here.”

Garrett opened his mouth to argue again when they suddenly heard footsteps in the stairwell. Both of them froze, moving quickly to hide against the wall where the door to the roof was. They stood on either side of the opening.

Pulling out his gun, he slowly clicked off the safety, his ears trying to pick out how close they were through the rushing wind. After a couple of tense minutes, the soldier he'd been assigned with walked through, gun pointing ahead of him.

Seamus slowly dropped his, stepping forward to draw his attention to him. “You scared the shit out of me, mate,” he said, taking a step back as the man's gun swung in his direction. He instantly relaxed, dropping the barrel.

“You were taking a while so I came to see if you were o-”

Garrett slammed the handle of his switchblade into the man's temple, knocking him out. They stood looking down on him.

“Ask and you shall receive,” Seamus said, slapping Garrett on the shoulder. “You can be the one to undress him.”

“Ass,” Garrett muttered, getting to work.

They walked around the Community Center, keeping their strides quick but not obvious. Garrett fidgeted with the NWO vest, cursing under his breath.

“Stop pulling at it,” Seamus said. “You look like a boy on Sunday, yanking on his church clothes.”

“If I ever went to church dressed like this, my da would have smacked me upside my head.”

“Mickey should have smacked the lot of you more anyway.”

They chuckled as they headed toward the back, two soldiers just doing their rounds. Or so it would appear to anyone watching them. Rounding the side, the fire escape came into view, as did two other soldiers, speaking with their heads close together.

Garrett and Seamus nodded in greeting, each keeping up an easy outward appearance. Stopping in front of the fire escape, Seamus helped him get the ladder down, all the while praying the other two didn't stop them.

“What are you two doing?”

Seamus closed his eyes. Praying never worked, he thought miserably. Unconsciously he fingered the scar on his cheek left by the beating he'd received from Roman, before he'd switched sides. He'd learned then that no matter how you might pray or ask for something, it didn't always happen. Actually, it rarely happened, he decided. More often than not his prayers went unanswered.

Garrett turned with a smile, his usual friendliness shining through. Out of all of them, it had always been Garrett and Seamus who were the easiest to get along with, the two that could lie and get away with almost anything with only a smile. Seamus had felt lately he'd lost a bit of that, this constant war taking its toll on him. But he could still fake it. He could put on a smile and wink and laugh, and everyone would think he was the same old Seamus as usual.

“We're just heading up to the roof,” Garrett explained.

“Why?” the same guy asked.

Seamus turned around too, staying calm. “We got orders to take a look around there.”

“We'll shout if there's any problems,” Garrett added, turning around to start climbing, effectively ending the conversation. Thankfully they dropped it, moving to head back out front.

“You must have a horseshoe up your arse,” Seamus said, climbing behind him.

They made quick work of getting on the roof. Seamus looked back to the other roof and felt another wave of relief that Garrett hadn't gone through with his insane plan. He joined him by the skylight, both of them lying on their bellies so they could discreetly peek over the edge to look down.

Seamus cursed as he got his first good gaze inside. Douglas' men were dragging bodies to a back room, streaks of blood creating a macabre path. Douglas and his council stood on a stage, speaking as though nothing was wrong with this picture.

The man was insane, he thought sickly. How had they ever followed him? To think, he'd spent years doing as the General had ordered. It made him want to walk in there and put a bullet through his head.

He heard Garrett suck in a sharp breath. Seamus looked over at him. “What is it?”

“I see him,” he said, his voice strained.

Seamus looked back down but couldn't see what he was seeing.

“He's hurt,” Garrett said. “I can tell. He's too pale. I need to get in there.”

“What? That's not possible,” he said instantly. “They're not letting any soldiers inside. You'll get yourself killed.”

Garrett stood suddenly, Seamus struggling to follow suit as he made his way to the stairs again.

“Garrett,” he called out, practically running down after him. “You need to think about this clearly. We're supposed to meet up with the others. If you go in there, you might be trapped.”

“It's a risk I'm willing to take.”

Seamus cursed, his chest tightening from trying to keep up. “What's the plan then?” Seamus asked, dropping his voice as they reached the ground.

“We get to an entrance and you cover me while I enter the building.”

“Douglas' men won't let any soldiers into the main room. How are you going to manage that?”

“I'll take this stupid outfit off once I'm in there and pose as one of the Uppers.”

“That doesn't sound like much of a plan, mate.” Seamus grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “I need you to really think this through.”

“Just get me inside and I'll figure it out once I'm in there.”

Seamus stepped closer, whispering urgently. “And what if Ludwig bombs the fucking place? What then?”

“We both know he won't. He needs his Uppers.”

“Who knows with him. It's too much of a risk. Trent and McKay would never let you do this.”

Garret grinned, slapping his shoulder. “Then it's a good thing they're not here.”

Trent walked into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. Pete sat beside Charlotte, his head bent toward her belly as he sang softly. Charlotte was watching him with so much love, he felt equally jealous and happy for them. He must have moved because suddenly she looked up and noticed him standing there.

He walked in, clearing his throat. “Sorry if I'm interrupting,” he said awkwardly.

“Don't be silly,” she said, waving him off. Pete sat up with a smile, clearly not embarrassed in the least. Trent dropped into a seat on the other side of the table. Missy placed a bowl of soup in front of him. He hadn't even noticed her in the room until then.

“Thanks,” he said, swallowing a spoonful. “It feels like forever since I heard you sing, Petey,” he said with a smile.

His brother laughed. “Yeah, I guess things have just been too crazy lately.”

“I think the last time was your birthday, Trent,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

He groaned. “Don't remind me,” he said, remembering how sick he'd been that night from all the shots they'd given him. God he hated being drunk.

“Why? What happened?” Missy asked with a smile, sitting beside him with her own bowl.

“Trent was hammered,” Charlotte told her, smiling gleefully.

“Stop gossiping about me when I'm right here.”

They both giggled. Charlotte started telling Missy about the night. Some things he wondered if she made up, his memory fuzzy. Despite his best efforts, he found himself laughing along with them. Tyler had even joined them at one point, sitting close to Missy as he started sharing his own stories about all the guys.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Trent was relaxed. He was surrounded by friends and they were laughing as if there wasn't a world of problems waiting for them all outside that door. It couldn't last, but it felt damn good to be able to just forget everything else, even if it was for a short time.

Looking at his brother and Charlotte, and Missy and Tyler, seeing how much they all loved their partners, Trent realized how much he was missing in his life. Yes, he had an amazing group of people he could call friends. And he had Michael, who was a good dad, even if he wasn't always the most attentive. Trent had purpose and something to work toward, which was all good.

But he didn't have one special person to share it with. And sitting there, looking at the others, he knew that it was important to have someone like that. In a world so full of hate, it was even more crucial to fill your life with love.

His mind went to Phoenix, picturing her smiles and bright eyes. The way she felt as she slept within his arms, and waking up to see her there, peaceful and soft. What would it be like to have that every day? He'd like to find out, he decided.

He just needed to get her to speak to him. Getting Phoenix to do anything she didn't want to was a huge challenge all on its own. It was a good thing he liked challenges.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Phoenix entered her room, sweaty and exhausted from training. It was the only thing to do around here, but at least it was giving everyone an outlet for their pent-up energy. Stripping off her clothes, she headed to the shower, looking forward to finally getting clean and heading to bed.

As soon as the hot water hit her back, she moaned appreciatively. There were definitely perks to staying underground in Bastian's hideout, and the showers were one of them. Missy was right, the place was great, especially compared to where they'd been living before.

Turning around, she let the water wash over her face, not hearing the sound of someone else in the room until the curtain was pulled back and a large body was crowding inside the tight space.

She squeaked in surprise, turning to see Trent standing naked in front of her. Unable to help it, her eyes trailed down his tight stomach and lean hips, soaking in every hard inch of him. The man was too perfect.

Schooling her face into a scowl, she looked back up, forcing her body to ignore his - if that was even possible.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” she said.

“Taking a shower,” he replied simply, smirking.

She huffed. “Go shower in your own room.”

He stepped closer, his thighs meeting hers. She felt her entire body jolt at the contact.

“Yours is much more fun,” he said huskily.

“Trent,” she warned, placing her hands on his stomach with the intent on pushing him away. “You can't just come in here and stare at me all sexily...”

“Sexily?” he chuckled.

She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the enticing sound. “Yes, sexily. And then crowd me with all these...” Her eyes roamed, “muscles,” she breathed, “and just expect me to give in.”

He leaned his head down until his lips were only a breath away. “Can't I?”

Her eyes were glued to his mouth, her own watering at just the thought of getting a taste of him. “Go away,” she said weakly.

“Is that what you really want?”

She nodded her head, her mouth too dry to speak.

He paused there, the air tense with anticipation. His lips pulled up into a disappointed smile. “Ok.”

She blinked in confusion.

Trent turned and walked out of the shower, leaving her a baffled, quivering mess.

“Trent, god damn it!” she yelled.

She heard him laugh a second before his hands reached in and grabbed her out from beneath the water. She squealed as he carried her soaking wet to the bed.

He dropped her, his body following.

“I'm fucking freezing, you asshole,” she said, shivering.

He smiled. “I'll fix that.”

She bit back her smile. She would not weaken in the midst of playful, sexy Trent.

“I'm still angry at you,” she said as he leaned down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. She swallowed her moan, her eyes rolling in her head of their own accord.

He lifted his head, pushing his hips closer. “I know you are,” he said, looking down at her. “Would it help if I apologized?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Would you mean it if you did?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “I don't say things I don't mean.” He rotated his hips, the hard length of him rubbing over her center. She moaned, unable to suppress it anymore.