Their Border Lands Freedom [Men of the Border Lands 12] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  As she sat on her cot, thoughts of who he might be and why he’d helped Stanton whirled through her head. She wove a story around him, believing him to be a good man since he’d stood up for Stanton in the first place. Why would a good man be there in Barter Town in one of the countless bars? That had to be where both men had met up since it sounded as if Stanton had been gambling with Arnold and his buddies.

  The more she thought about them, the more she wished she could get to know the real men. Stanton was a little standoffish, but then he was different anyway. It was obvious he’d come from an affluent family and hadn’t lived in the same circles she had. With how things were in the world now, it was a wonder he was even surviving at all. It meant he had a good head on his shoulders and determination.

  Her patient was an even bigger mystery. She didn’t know his name or anything about him outside of what she could glean from his clothes, body, and cleanliness. He struck her as a survivor, like her, who worked hard to live by the amazing shape he was in. His short brown hair needed a trim, but it was essentially clean outside of the blood now stuck in it. He had a shadow of a beard but it was his full kissable lips that she kept focusing on when she should have been tending to his injuries. Somehow, she couldn’t make herself feel guilty about that.

  She was fairly certain his eyes were a hazel color, but it was difficult to judge the exact shades when she had to pry them open to get a good look of his pupil reactions. There were crow’s-feet at the corners indicating he squinted a lot. Did he need glasses, or had he lost the ones he’d had? Maybe he just worked outdoors so much that squinting did that to him. She recognized that he’d had a broken nose at some point since it was slightly crooked. That could indicate that he tended to get into fights easily or that he’d just been in one. It certainly didn’t detract from his good looks, and with the dimple in his chin, her patient was very easy on the eyes.

  Though she hadn’t undressed him completely, she had noticed the abundance of tiny scars all over his hands and lower arms. She had wanted to find out what they were from, but unless he woke up before the others returned, she wouldn’t be able to satisfy her curiosity. She would have to content herself with remembering how broad his shoulders were and how wide his chest seemed with the light sprinkling of brown hair across it that led down to the waistband of his jeans. She had removed his belt and felt along his abdomen. Though it was sculptured and muscular, it had been soft enough to rule out internal injuries. As much as she had wanted to explore further, she hadn’t wanted to do it with an audience.

  Stanton’s shaggy black hair reached his shoulders, but he seemed to keep his face shaved smooth. He had rich blue eyes that normally would have captivated her if she hadn’t been so worried about her patient. She could tell he felt out of place standing there watching her, but he didn’t let the others intimidate him, which was the only reason he’d survived as long as he had, she was sure.

  Lyssa wished for the thousandth time that she could escape her captor and find a nice quiet cabin somewhere to hide from people like Arnold. Maybe she could travel to whatever settlement Stanton was headed to and set up a practice there to take care of the residents of the new town. She’d barter for her services, taking food and staple items in exchange for health care.

  Why am I even thinking about it? Getting my hopes up is only going to hurt when it doesn’t happen. I’d think I would have stopped wishing by now.

  But she hadn’t. If anything, her wishes and prayers had become more desperate and often. Arnold had begun to get more physical in the last few weeks, hitting her for no reason and taking every opportunity he got to feel her up anytime she was outside the cell. He’d learned his lesson about trying to corner her inside the tiny room. She easily got the best of him in there. Of course, that was when he’d started feeding her less, too. No doubt he thought he’d weaken her so she couldn’t fight back as much.

  At some point while she was thinking about her lack of a decent future, Lyssa dozed off, her head resting against the wall behind her cot. A sudden sound followed by a moan woke her. It took her a few seconds to remember the events from earlier to understand that the moan had probably come from her patient in the cell next door.

  Lyssa got to her feet and hurried over to the front of hers where there were bars. She pressed her face in close to the bars and stuck her hand out toward the other cell.

  “Hey! Can you hear me? You’re on a stretcher, don’t roll off, or you’ll fall and hit the concrete floor,” she told him.

  “Too fucking late. Why the hell did you leave me on that thing in the first place? You had to know I was going to end up falling off of it. Fuck! What the hell happened to me?” the gruff voice asked.

  “Sorry. I didn’t have any control over what they did with you. I just patched you up. You’ve got a concussion, I’m sure. You were in a fight. Well, I guess you were the punching bag in a fight is more like it. Arnold’s cohorts got a hold of you. What’s the last thing you remember?” Lyssa knew he would be pretty confused when he regained consciousness.

  “I’m not sure. Hell, are my ribs busted?” the man asked.

  “I don’t think so, though they could be cracked.”

  “There was this city dweller playing cards, and he kept winning. They accused him of cheating and jumped on him. Hell. When am I going to learn to mind my own fucking business?” He groaned louder this time. “Why the hell am I in jail?”

  “Arnold and his bunch run this side of Barter Town. Since you were on his side when you tried to defend Stanton, this is where you ended up. Of course, you’d probably be dead if Stanton hadn’t paid the bastard off. Don’t worry, Stanton will be back at nine in the morning to make sure Arnold lets you go free. He kept part of the money he was giving them to be sure they didn’t screw him over and kill you after he’d left,” she told him.

  “Who the hell is Stanton?” the man asked.

  “He’s the city dweller you helped out. He’s returning the favor by making sure you got first aid and a place to recover. Got to admire the man for having some decency in a place like this,” she told him.

  A loud sigh escaped the man’s lips. She agreed. It was a fine mess he was in. She knew all about that particular reflection. The sound of movement from the next cell followed by boots moving across the concrete floor let her know he was walking toward the front of his cell. Then a hand appeared from that side.

  “I’m Wade Cresswell. You can come out and talk to me. I won’t hurt you. I’m kind of locked up right now,” he said with what sounded like a grin on his face.

  She hesitated just a second then stuck her own hand out toward his. “I’m your next door cell mate, Lyssa Truesdale. Nice to meet you, Wade. Where are you from?”

  Silence met her question. She wondered why, but not for long.

  “What in the hell are you doing locked up in a jail cell for?” he asked as he clasped her extended hand and lightly shook it before releasing it.

  “Long story, but suffice it to say that I’d rather be here than in one of the brothels right now.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I imagine so. I’m originally from Bandera, Texas, before the world went crazy. What about you?”

  “I’m actually from Dallas, Texas. I’m a nurse practitioner,” she said and leaned her forehead against the bars for a second. Then she turned and walked back over to sit down again.

  “How long have I been out?” he asked.

  “Um, I’m not real sure. I fell asleep for a little while. I figure it’s about four or five in the morning, so maybe six hours. Someone like you should have steered clear of the inside of Barter Town and kept to the outsides where they sell supplies.” She realized after she said it that sounded insulting, but no matter. It was the truth.

  “Someone like me? What does that mean? I don’t think you know me well enough to make any kinds of assumptions, Lyssa,” Wade said.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that you stepped in to help Stanton, who shou
ldn’t have been there either. Good men don’t have any business here. You, Wade Cresswell, are a good man. Otherwise you’d have never looked twice when they started in on Stanton, just like if he wasn’t basically a good man, he’d have taken advantage of them jumping on you to run. At the very least he wouldn’t have secured your care and only made sure he got away,” she said.

  “Well, stands to reason, he might still change his mind and not return since he has half of that money and isn’t locked up here with me,” Wade said with a deep chuckle. “Don’t make him out to be a saint yet.”

  She smiled to herself since he couldn’t see her. “Maybe, maybe not. Get some rest. You’re going to need it. No matter what Arnold agreed to or bargained with Stanton, he isn’t going to just open the door and let you walk out. He’ll have something up his sleeve, so be ready,” she told him. “Night, Wade Cresswell.”

  “G’night, Lyssa,” he said.

  She lay there for several long minutes before the sound of a soft snore reached her ears. She smiled at the almost homey sound he made and turned over, praying that the morning light wouldn’t bring his death.

  Chapter Two

  Something woke Wade from a deep sleep. He lay in the darkness, listening to the faint sounds of footsteps somewhere in the building. It was still too dark to be able to see much of anything around him. Then a faint strip of light appeared from somewhere to the left of the bars as the footsteps grew louder. Whoever it was had a lamp, judging by how the light seemed to flicker.

  Lyssa had said it would be closer to nine before anyone showed up, and he’d have agreed with her since Barter Town catered more to the shady characters in an effort to separate them from their valuables. Very few people would be awake at this hour of the morning. But that didn’t help him figure out who was inching toward them now.

  “Lyssa? Are you awake? It’s Stanton,” the voice called out.

  “Stanton? What are you doing here? How did you get in?” his neighbor asked.

  “Doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to hurry. Has he woken yet? Is he safe to move?”

  “I’m awake. Who are you? What’s going on?” he asked, walking toward the bars.

  The man walked over with the lamp, and Wade could see Stanton’s face now. Yep. He recognized him from the night before in the bar.

  “I’m Stanton York. You stood up for me last night and ended up pretty soundly beaten for your trouble. We’ll talk more later. Right now, we need to get you out of here before those men return.” He stepped to the left, out of Wade’s view. “Lyssa, do you know where they keep the keys?”

  “Normally Arnold keeps them on him. I think there may be a spare set in the first office on the right somewhere, because someone has to bring me food when he’s not around. I can’t see him trusting them with them if it were the only set,” she said.

  “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

  Wade listened as Stanton’s footsteps softened. The sound of a door creaking open then shuffling and banging around made him wince. He hoped no one was anywhere near to hear the other man as he searched for a spare set of keys. It was again obvious that the other man wasn’t adept at being a criminal or any sort of stealth, but then he had managed to get inside without detection yet, so Wade had to give him points.

  After what seemed like hours, he heard a muffled shout of victory, and then the footsteps returned and keys rattled and clanged next to him as the man tried the different keys until he found the right one and the door creaked open.

  “Hurry, we need to get him out and get out of here,” Stanton was saying.

  “Get him while I gather some supplies. We may need them,” Lyssa said.

  Stanton stepped back into view and began trying keys until one finally opened the lock on the door. Wade hurried out as Stanton turned and walked out of the short hall to another hall where they could both hear Lyssa moving in one of the rooms ahead of them.

  “Hurry, Lyssa. I don’t know how long it will be before someone notices the door isn’t on its hinges right,” Stanton said in a loud whisper.

  “Ready. We’ll go out the back door. It will lead us closer to the outer edges of town and away from spying eyes,” she said.

  Wade didn’t have time to appreciate the woman’s pretty face and lovely figure in the dim light as they rushed down another hall and through a door Lyssa had opened. It put them in an alley behind the building. She led the way to a cross road, and from there Stanton led them down one street after another until he stopped beside a beat up Mazda B2000 truck that had seen better days.

  “Get in. We need to put as many miles as possible between us and this place,” he said.

  They scrambled into the cab with Lyssa in the middle, all but sitting in Wade’s lap. Stanton had it running before he even had the door closed. They took off across the grass toward the road leading out of Barter Town. Wade winced as his ribs made contact with Lyssa’s elbow but didn’t say anything. She looked over their shoulders then turned back around to settle on the seat. She had one leg on one side of the stick shift, and the other pressed tight against his thigh on the other side of it.

  “Why did you come back and break us out? You were going to get Wade later this morning anyway. What about your bus to the new city?” she asked the man.

  “Slow down. Let me get us on the road, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Watch your legs, darling,” Stanton said as he downshifted.

  Wade knew there was no way the other man was shifting without rubbing his hand all between Lyssa’s thighs, but to her credit, she didn’t complain. Instead she held absolutely still, as if trying not to get in the way of either of them.

  Once they had bumped up on the road again, Stanton opened it up. The man’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles were white in the faint glow of the dash lights. Wade tried to shift without seeming obvious to relieve some of the pressure on his ribs.

  “Am I hurting you?” Lyssa immediately asked, turning to look at him.

  The concern in her expression surprised him considering what all she’d probably been through. He couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been in that cell and why she was there. Maybe once they were well away from Barter Town she’d open up some as well.

  As they bumped along he discreetly studied her, seeing her by the lights of the dashboard for the first time. She had long black hair that, though tangled and most likely dirty, was still amazing to see. Despite the bruise to her face, she was a very pretty woman with dark eyes. Her mouth was very expressive. Before he’d seen concern on her face and in the set of her lips. Now he could read the tenseness there. She didn’t appear terribly thin, but he could tell she’d lost weight by the ill fit of her clothes and how her cheeks appeared slightly sunken.

  He judged her to be about five foot three at the most. He couldn’t wait until they had more light so he could see her better. Her husky voice awakened things in him he’d thought long buried in his past. Why this was happening now when they were running for their lives, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to ignore it. He wanted to understand it and figure out if it was just a fluke or if there was something really there that sparked his interest.

  When they finally reached a road, or at least what had once been a road, they all sighed. Even though it wasn’t exactly smooth, it was a hell of a lot better than driving over the bumpy field had been. The old truck had not been made for off-road driving even when it had been new.

  “Okay, you want to fill us in?” he asked.

  The man gave a sharp nod and huffed out a breath. “I’m originally from New York, Manhattan to be exact. Before you say anything, I know I’m some know-nothing Yankee who’s never done a hard day’s labor in my life. At least I used to be. I’ve had to adjust just like everyone else who survived the disasters. I’ve learned a lot over the last nearly ten years, and it hasn’t been any easier for me than it has been for you. I’d wager that it’s been a good deal harder considering I knew nothing about camp
ing, cooking, or surviving without the Internet, a smartphone, and GPS.” He stopped and seemed to be trying to gather himself.

  “We’re not judging you, Stanton. We’ve all got a story. Not everyone is the same,” Lyssa told him. She’d placed her hand on his arm for a second then moved it back to her lap.

  He just nodded. “Anyway, things in the bigger cities were bad even in the very beginning. It’s not like in the country or smaller towns,” he said. “People didn’t start out helping each other before things got so bad that they turned against their neighbors just to survive. Where I lived, there was no grace period. The inner city gangs immediately moved in on the richer neighborhoods, looting, raping, and killing. They had no mercy for anyone, old or young. It was horrendous, the worst thing I have ever witnessed in my life.”

  “Were you alone?” Lyssa asked.

  “Not at first. My wife lived through the worst of the disasters and resulting diseases. She worked right beside me to forage for food and try to keep our place safe. We were living in a townhouse at the time and thought we were essentially safe—except we weren’t. She barricaded herself inside the house every time I left to look for food and ammunition for the rifle I found at a neighbor’s house that hadn’t been ransacked yet. He never returned after the first earthquake hit us.”

  Wade could tell this didn’t have a happy ending. He doubted any of them had had one. Like Lyssa had said, they all had their stories. He didn’t want to hear about Stanton’s though. It would seem so much worse because they’d been like sitting ducks and newborn kittens, no chance of survival since they were out of their element, their natural environment.

  “I came home one day to find that someone had broken in and taken everything we had. They’d raped and killed my wife. I had failed her. I was supposed to take care of her, keep her safe, and I failed her,” Stanton’s voice broke, but he quickly recovered to continue. “I guess I went a little crazy there for a while. I don’t remember much for a few months or so. I don’t know how long really. It was all a blur, and there was no way or reason to keep up with time once she was gone. Once I snapped out of it, I tried to pick up what little I had left and start over, but the memories there were too strong and instead of remembering her with fondness, all I could see was how I found her, naked and broken. I had to get out of there.” Stanton slammed on the breaks when a couple of wild dogs ran out in front of them. Cursing, he hit the gas once they were gone.