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“Your duty is to me,” Rosamond said, razors in her voice. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes clear. She pinned Noah with her sharp gaze. “Your duty is to do anything and everything I say. I say jump, you jump. I say do this, you do it. I thought I had already made myself clear. Apparently, I did not. So, let me be clear now. Everything you have is because of me. I gave you that badge you wear so proudly. I gave you that house that keeps you warm at night and shelters you. And I gave you the medication that keeps your son alive.”
Rosamond was like a mother to him, a grandmother to Milo. He loved her. It wasn’t something he thought about much, but it was true. He owed her. He’d repaid her with absolute loyalty.
She’d been working on a portrait of Milo to give to Noah but hadn’t gone beyond the initial sketches.
She wanted to draw Hannah’s baby, too. Hannah would appreciate any kind of picture as a keepsake.
Hannah had brought the kids and Ghost to visit several times, but Noah never came with them. He was withdrawing, isolating himself.
Quinn hated it. She hated what everyone was saying about him. Noah was better than this. She knew he was.
What she wanted to do was find Liam Coleman. He was a fighter, a former Delta Force super soldier. He knew fifty ways to kill someone, and he never hesitated to do what needed doing. Quinn Riley wanted to be a warrior.
Quinn had begged to take a shift. She was quick-witted, smart, and ambitious. She took things seriously and didn’t mess around, unlike many teenagers.
She was pissed about it, but he’d rather have her safe and alive.
“We need to be careful. Annette King said that Sutter is offering food rewards for informants reporting dissent. Anyone could turn us in or report us.”
Tracks crisscrossed the backyard. A small pair of human footprints, followed by giant paw prints. Liam smiled. The prints were fresh. Hannah and Ghost were here.
She glanced up with a soft smile, her eyes shining. “Sorry. I knew you’d come back eventually and thought you’d appreciate a warm house. It gets so cold without a fire.” “I do.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her. “It’s your house. You don’t have to make excuses for coming over.”
She meant alone. After a month of being with a person day in and day out, you got to know them well. You got used to them. Enjoyed them, wanted them around.
They hadn’t been alone since that night together on the porch swing. The night he’d wanted to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to kiss her every time he saw her.
A part of him wanted to look away. She had a disconcerting way of seeing straight through him. It wasn’t a bad thing. There was something to being known by someone. It made you feel less alone in the world.
He loved little Charlotte Rose as if she were his own child. Yet every time he looked at her in that crooked little knit cap, he thought of his nephew.
He tried to stay focused on her words and not the warmth radiating through his back and shoulders at her faintest touch—or the surge of heat in his belly.
She glanced at her injured hand, self-conscious. He knew she thought of it as her “bad” hand. He never thought of it that way. Every inch of her was beautiful. He wanted to hold her. Pull her into his arms, tilt her chin toward his, and kiss her like she deserved.
He didn’t trust Noah to keep her safe. He didn’t trust Noah at all, for anything.
“If you’d like to come…” Any excuse to see her again. “I would.” She rewarded him with a radiant smile. Liam didn’t want her to leave. As soon as that door closed behind her, the house would feel empty and lonely again. But he had work to do. Fall Creek wouldn’t save itself.
“I was…surprised at his choice of James Luther as his second in command. Luther seems young and green. I would have chosen someone with more…experience.”
Seduction—manipulation—was all in the imagination. In what you didn’t see, what you didn’t say.
“Sutter’s rationing them. We must turn over what we find.” She’d been the one to order Sutter to hoard cigars, cigarettes, and anything weed-related. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be more valuable than gold for barter. Giving them to the hired help was a waste of resources.
Despite recent setbacks, despite her losses, despite her suspicions that those closest to her were untrustworthy—she would still come out on top.
she had no qualms about discarding him if he failed her.
The militia had fixed a problem. This new problem—Liam Coleman and his ilk—were proving to be a larger, more complex issue. She had a plan, but it was not without risks. She’d been reluctant to call upon her resources before now. An ally more powerful than herself posed its own perils.
With their business concluded, she couldn’t be rid of him fast enough. She straightened, set her half-full glass on the pristine desk, and sashayed toward the door. “Have a wonderful evening.” Disappointment crossed his face. She forced a flirty smile, hiding her disgust. “Say hello to your wife for me.” Lyle departed without another word. He wasn’t so stupid or drunk that he didn’t recognize a dismissal.
She missed her daily maid service. A local woman on the verge of starvation would be willing to do it for a can of beans. Maybe even less.
But she couldn’t trust one of them in her house, rifling through her things, touching everything with their dirty, unwashed hands, seeing what they shouldn’t see, hearing what they shouldn’t hear. No. She couldn’t trust anyone. Without her sons, she was on her own.
His back felt better than it had in weeks, if not years. Hannah had worked her magic.
Liam kept his thoughts to himself. If survival was one’s only concern, sharing any resources—for any reason, for anyone—was the wrong move. Foolish, short-sighted, ludicrous.
He respected a man who put others first, even at a significant cost to himself.
he was a sheepdog. The ones who stood between the
wolves and the sheep, who put themselves on the line, first, last, and always.
“We have machines,”
“Anything with a diesel engine can run on alternative fuels. We need to look at making biodiesel—or find someone who can. Start with Dominique West in St. Joe. She used to do Civil War reenactments. This girl knows blacksmithing, welding, and makes her own moonshine with her brother. I want her to make some to sell at the inn.”
Liam couldn’t take his gaze off Hannah. Her eyes shone with energy, motivation, and hope. She’d been exhausted from caring for a newborn, but her weariness seemed to vanish.
A thread of hope tugged at his own chest. To listen to them talk, it sounded like it might work. Despite the odds, despite the chaos and enemies lurking at the gates, they would create something worthwhile. Something good.
Deep down, he wanted it as much as they did. He couldn’t speak it aloud yet. It was too fragile. Too easily broken.
She’d attached zip ties to her bicycle wheels to increase traction in the slush, snow, and ice. One zip tie for every spoke, with connectors on the outside edge to help them grip while turning. It worked, but she’d still rather drive.
Bishop said people needed something to believe in, to hold on to. The worse things got, the more important faith became. Maybe he was right; that didn’t change her mind.
She picked up a handful of nuts, bolts, and wing nuts and weighed them in her palm. She could build some heavy-duty ammunition with these. The weight and sharp edges would tear holes in any target.
“We should get them on our side,” Quinn whispered. “Ask them to fight with us.” Liam shook his head. “The people who posture and yell the loudest are often the biggest cowards. Watch when the real fighting starts. Those guys will be cowering in their mama’s basements.”
Quinn never even felt Liam move. One second, he was at her side. The next, he was crouched behind the thick stone column that propped up the metal awning. He edged the muzzle of his Glock around the corner of the column and aimed at Vik.
Vik staggered. He dropped his weapon and clutched his left shoulder with both hands. Blood spurted through his gloved fingers. “My next shot drills a hole through his skull,” Liam said flatly. “Lower your weapons.”
“I said, we’re done!” Luther yelled. “This soldier is the guy who saved me, Kesler, and Hoagin. No one shoots him. You got a problem? Take it up with Sutter. Let’s go!”