Afterglow: An Apocalypse Romance Read online

  Even with the warning in her voice, he couldn’t stop thinking about those lips, about kissing them, hard enough to leave her literally breathless. About her lips kissing his neck, then his stomach, then wrapped around his cock.

  He cleared his throat. “Money’s not worth much these days. And I’ve got food. I could use a gun. That revolver of yours is pretty sweet. And ammo. You got ammo?”

  “Yes. Fine. But not this revolver. It’s my favorite. I can give you a .22 or a .44 pistol. Plus ammo.”

  Creed shook his head, unable to speak. He’d been joking about wanting a gun, but she seemed perfectly serious. “No, Nina, I don’t need a gun. I was messing with you. My bike is worth a lot more than a gun. And I have my own, anyway.”

  For a second desperation crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by the tough expression he was getting used to. “Fine. Then one of the other bikes. Are they running? Can you fix one up?”

  “How soon do you need one?”

  “Now. Today. Tomorrow, if not today.”

  “No way. I don’t even think I have all the parts I need. I’d have to hit the repair shop and get some shit to finish them. Repair shops might be looted.”

  Nina made an exasperated sound and sank down onto the floor, still holding the ice pack to the side of her face.

  “What do you need a bike so bad for anyway?” Creed shifted his arm, wincing at the pain.

  She gave him a sharp look. “To sit on it and take selfies. What do you think I need it for?”

  “Calm down, killer, it was just a question.”

  “A stupid one,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Do you even know how to ride?”

  “I learn fast.” She shot him a haughty glance. “And,” she added, looking down, “I’d trade extra for lessons.”

  Dirty thoughts shot to his brain—and his cock—and he was about to say something with a double meaning, when the front window glass shattered. In a split second, without even thinking, he was on top of Nina, pushing her down onto the living room rug as glass rained down around them.

  For a moment they waited to see what would happen, and when a second shot didn’t come, he army-crawled across the floor to the side table, where his loaded gun was in the drawer.

  “Stay down,” he hissed, but by the time he had his gun and had turned around, Nina was already at the window, peering through while keeping her body as low as possible underneath the frame. Any other girl would be cowering down behind the couch, he though. Hell, most guys would too. But not Nina.

  “There’s three guys,” she whispered. “I think I saw two of them breaking into the old lady’s house across the street from me. They killed her.”

  Fighting down the urge to vomit from the pain in his arm, he made it to the window in a crawl and looked out. Three armed men were closing in on the house.

  “I scared them off with a warning shot before,” said Nina, raising her gun. “I’m going to do it again.”

  “And they came back. With another asshole. As much as you know about guns, you should know the basic principles of gun usage,” he whispered as the three men cautiously approached the house, getting a little closer. They were about thirty feet away now.

  “Never aim your gun at something you’re not willing to destroy. I know, OK?”

  “That’s exactly right. And these guys used up their warning. No more chances.”

  “Yes, sir,” whispered Nina, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “I know what I’m talking about, Nina. I’m the only trustworthy person you’ve encountered since things went to shit, am I right?”

  “You? Trustworthy?” She gave a tiny whispered laugh.

  The men came closer, and the one on the right pointed and gestured, whispering something Creed couldn’t hear to the two others. The man looked straight at the house then and yelled, his voice loud in the otherwise silent surroundings. “Hey, pretty lady. I know you’re in there. We’re coming to get you.” He said it in a sing-song voice, and Creed felt Nina shiver next to him. Anger, red hot and fluid, coursed through his veins like molten lava. Fuck this bastard.

  “I’ll take them all out if you can’t do it. Just remember, he wouldn’t give you a warning shot. They followed you here, Nina. Do you know what they’d do to you if they got their hands on you right now?” With shocking ferocity, his anger swelled even more when he imagined these men putting their hands on Nina.

  “Fine,” Nina whispered. “I’ll get the middle guy and the one on the right. You take the one on the left.”

  Was she messing with him? But there was no time to argue. The men crouched low and began to run for the house. “Go,” he whispered.

  Both of them raised their bodies as little as possible as their hands came up, guns pointed at the men. He aimed at the running man, his finger steady on the trigger, his body solid and relaxed, and with a gentle motion squeezed the trigger. The man fell, and he noticed the man in the middle falling too. The man on the right was already down. She was fast as hell.

  Nina sank to the floor, and Creed winced at the knowledge that she was sitting down in the broken shards of glass from the window.

  “Get up,” he said, reaching out his hand.

  He was surprised when she took it, and even more surprised at how impossibly small her hand was compared to his. This immediate comparison made his heart twinge. No. Not going there. He squeezed her hand a little harder than he needed to as he led her to the couch.

  “Sit,” he demanded. She complied. “You OK, Nina?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She took a deep breath, and he could see the resolve pass over her face. Even if she wasn’t fine, she damn well wasn’t going to let it stop her. He admired that. But he also knew from experience that hiding your emotions too much could destroy someone.

  “You never killed a person before.” It was a statement, not a question. He could tell from the way she was acting.

  “Uh, no? My life prior to this wasn’t spent going around shooting strangers.”

  He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue.

  “And why do you seem so calm about it?” she shot in his direction. “Should I take that to mean you have killed someone before?”

  Again he didn’t respond, just sank down onto the couch next to her.

  “You have, haven’t you. Figures. The first trustworthy person I meet is actually a killer. How come only assholes survived?”

  “I may be an asshole,” he finally said, “and I may also be a killer. Technically. Military, if it makes a difference. Marines.”

  A slight blush crossed her cheeks, and her mouth fell open slightly. She was embarrassed! Good. Let her be. Maybe it would take her down a peg or two. “I’m sorry. Seriously. That’s different.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t want to get into it. When he sensed her about to ask questions about it, he spoke up. “Listen, I’m going to go outside, check that they’re dead, get their weapons. You want to stay here?”

  Without answering, she got up and headed to the door, taking a long look out the window first. They covered each other heading out to the bodies, and he was impressed by her knowledge of gun safety as well as by the nonchalance with which she handled the dead bodies. He knew it couldn’t be easy for her. But she was tough. She didn’t back down. And he liked that, more than he probably should.

  * * *

  Creed got out two bottles of water and two snack-bags of potato chips—leftovers from Kaylee’s lunch treats—and set them on the coffee table.

  “Did your mom raise you to always offer something to company?” asked Nina.

  Creed laughed and nodded, though he felt a sharp pang at the mention of his mom. “Apocalypse or not.”

  Nina tore open the little bag of chips and chewed thoughtfully. “OK. So back to the motorcycle. Tell me what it’ll take to get one working, and what I can do to help. I really need this.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  She looked at him sharply. “Non
e of your business.”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe my bikes aren’t any of your business, sweetheart.” He chugged some water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then picked up his pistol, idly ejecting the magazine to check how much ammo was left, then clicking it back in, the sound satisfying. Comforting. He set it down gently on the coffee table. “You’re a good shot,” he said finally. “Where’d you learn to shoot?”

  “My grandmother.”

  “Really?” He laughed. It wasn’t quite the answer he’d expected.

  “Yeah. She’s... special.” Nina ripped a strip of the paper label off the water bottle, curling it around her finger.

  “Must be.”

  “That’s where I’m going. That’s why I want a bike. I tried taking my car but the roads are all blocked up. People abandoned their cars.”

  He nodded. “You think your grandma’s still alive?”

  “If anyone is, she is.”

  “Tough broad?”

  “The toughest. My whole family will be meeting there. At her house. My parents and my little brother. She’s got a, well, it’s a shelter. Fully stocked.”

  “Your grandma?” He couldn’t help the disbelief from showing on his face.

  “Yes.” Nina scowled at him. She began to tear the strip of label into pieces. “Not all little old ladies sit around watching soap operas and knitting blankets for their church.”

  “Really? That’s exactly what I see you doing when you’re eighty.” He winked, mostly to fuck with her because he knew it would make her mad.

  “Shut up,” she retorted, but the smile she tried to suppress was obvious to Creed. “I have a proposition,” she continued. “I want to show you something, and I bet you’ll find something you’re willing to trade for your bike. In fact, since I’ll be leaving, maybe I’ll trade the whole place.”

  “You’re talking about your house?”

  “My parents’ house. Yeah. Let’s go.”

  “Is it far?”

  “Just a few blocks. How’s your arm?” she asked as she got up, and Creed followed her to the door. Her hand was on her gun, holstered around her hips. That were, by the way, sexy as hell.

  “Perfect. Your face?” He winced as he said it, the guilt over having hurt her returning.

  “Perfect,” she echoed, her voice even. “Let’s go.”

  They made their way the few blocks to her parents’ house, careful to stay hidden as well as possible. Nobody was in sight, and Creed didn’t know if he should feel relieved or afraid. He was glad nobody was shooting at them. But the fact that there were no signs of life was unsettling. Could that many people really be dead?

  Approaching the small house, Creed saw an old Acura in the driveway, the back seat stuffed with bins. So this must be the car Nina tried to drive out of here. If she was really planning to take a motorcycle, she’d need to cut way down on what she brought, but he suspected she already knew that and could figure out on her own exactly what to bring and what to leave. And she’d be good at raiding abandoned houses and stores along the way.

  He wanted to fix up a bike for her. He wanted to help. But the thought of her alone, fending for herself—no matter how tough she’d already proven to be—made his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. She would balk at the notion that she needed someone to take care of her, but traveling solo in this new world wasn’t safe. And he knew, with a sudden and insane certainty, that he wasn’t going to let her go alone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  –Nina–

  “So if you’re good with electronics, you might be able to fix the generator,” Nina said, after she’d shown Creed the basement shelter in her parents’ house. “I’m leaving almost everything here, since I can only take what I can carry and fit into those—what are they called?—side bags?”

  “Saddlebags,” he grunted.

  “So you’ll have tons of food, lots of ammo, medical supplies—of course I’ll leave enough antibiotics for a while for your arm. Batteries, a few extra flashlights. There’s even some board games. You know. For entertainment.” She shone the light directly at his face and he shielded it with his hands. “Sorry. Let’s go upstairs. It’s stuffy down here. But if there’s trouble, it’s a great place to lock yourself in until it passes.”

  “Do I look like the kind of person who’s afraid of trouble?”

  Nina was glad it was relatively dark in the basement so he couldn’t see her blush. Because no, he didn’t look like the kind of person who was afraid of trouble. He was big and hard, sporting muscles that looked perfect for fighting—or running her hands over. He filled out a pair of jeans like no guy she’d ever seen before, his thick and defined thighs hard to look away from. And his face? Handsome didn’t describe it, with those dark brown eyes and hard, square jaw, scruffy and messy (because who cared about shaving regularly during an apocalypse?). Strong nose, full lips.

  He hardly ever smiled—in fact he looked almost downright mean—but when he did, it made Nina feel like she’d earned it, or like it was a special gift he was giving to her and nobody else. OK, so there wasn’t anybody else around, making her the only person for him to smile at. But she liked the way he looked at her. Of course, this was the exact worst time in the history of worst times to get involved with someone, but clearly her body hadn’t gotten that message.

  Shaking her head as if to clear it, she followed him back up the stairs and into her kitchen.

  “So,” she said when they were upstairs, sitting at the kitchen table. “How long will it take for me to learn how to ride a motorcycle?”

  “Not long with the right teacher.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Well, all I’ve got is you,” she retorted. “How long?”

  He shrugged. “You got a bike to learn on?”

  Why was he being so difficult? “I thought we had a deal!”

  “What? This basement for my bike? What makes you think I don’t have somewhere to be?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know. I guess because if you did, you wouldn’t be hanging around here anymore.”

  “Yeah. Well. I’ve been sick.”

  “Sick?” she sputtered. “What kind of sick?” Please let him not say he’d had the horribly contagious and deadly virus! Nina pushed her chair back from the table and stared at Creed, anger and fear pulsing through her.

  He shrugged again. “Some virus.”

  “The virus? No, it can’t be,” she muttered. “It has almost a 100% death rate.” At least that’s what the news was last reporting, before the power went out and CNN became nonexistent.

  “I don’t know what I had. We all got sick, in my house. Leslie and Kaylee, uh, didn’t make it.” A shadow passed over his face, and Nina could see the agony, hidden but still evident.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  He grunted and ran a hand over his face.

  “But shit, Creed, you should have told me! What if you’re still contagious?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight when you broke into my fucking house, Nina. Did you expect me to give you a warning before you cut me?”

  “No. You’re right.” She sighed. Letting fear overtake her wasn’t going to solve anything, and pissing Creed off wasn’t going to help her get what she wanted.

  “Anyway, I’m not sick anymore. Just weak as hell. Besides, last I heard the incubation period is really short, and people stop being contagious a few days after they get sick. It’s unstable, the virus. Easily killed on surfaces and lasts no longer than a few minutes outside the body anyway.”

  “How do you know that? And why did so many people get sick and die?”

  Creed shrugged. “I have—had—sources. And people got sick and died so fast because it’s highly contagious and deadly if you get it, and it spread fast before anyone even knew what it was.”

  “So how come you didn’t die?”

  “Luck? I don’t think there’s any virus that’s 100% fatal. Anyway, last I heard it had a 95% death rate, so I guess I
was in the fortunate 5%.”

  Nina’s body calmed a bit, but the fear was there and real. So many people had died. Almost everyone, really. Was what Creed said about the virus being unstable true? Had scientists even had a chance to research this particular illness?

  For a split second her instinct was to do a quick Google search to find out, but of course that wasn’t possible. How long would that instinct last, now that the Internet was gone forever, or at least for the foreseeable future? For some reason, this struck her as funny, a laugh bubbling up inside her.

  Before she knew what was happening, she was laughing but crying at the same time, sobs rocking her body. She tried to stop, but her mind was overwhelmed, the weight and severity of what was happening crushing her. She’d seen her neighbor killed in cold blood. She’d had the same guys come looking for her. And she’d killed them, two men who were assholes, yes, but she’d killed them.

  “Nina.” Creed’s voice was harsh, distracting her for a second as she glanced at him. His eyes focused on hers, a look of something suspiciously close to concern on his face.

  But it wasn’t enough to stop her, and the tears started again, her entire body shaking. “I killed someone, Creed,” she finally managed to whisper through her sobs. “Two people. I killed people.”

  “I guess killer was a perfect nickname for you after all.”

  “Go to hell.” How could he say that? How could he make light of the pain that she was feeling right now? “Just because you’re a ruthless asshole doesn’t mean everyone else is, OK?”

  She got up, pushing her chair back so forcefully it fell over, cracking against the floor as it hit. She ran into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her, and lay down on the bed. What she wanted right now was to cuddle up under the soft sea green comforter right here in her parents’ guest room, which used to be her room, and pretend they’d be home any minute. That they’d all go out to eat, even if it was to the Red Lobster, the one on Touhy near the park where she and Logan used to sled when they were kids, which her father inexplicably loved and always chose. The thought that Red Lobster didn’t exist anymore—and never would again—brought a new wave of tears. She was screwed. Totally screwed. Everyone was.