Defiance (4 page)

The fact that the sun had broken through the atmosphere without the help of the satellite meant that more changes were coming.

She’d noted the lamps set up inside the main house, guarded like the precious things they were. An hour under those lamps equaled a week’s worth of sunshine. It kept them as healthy as they could be. “I’ve heard rumors that it’s out all day for three months in some parts of the world.”

“Europe,” he agreed. “Just happened last year.”

“Then there’s hope.”

“Never said there wasn’t.”

He was just twenty-three, a year older than Lance and Abel had been when they’d taken over the MC from their fathers.

The original members had all been twenty, fresh out of the Navy and not ready for the real world. The way she’d heard it told was that the real world hadn’t been ready for them or the war they still had in their eyes.

A club built on blood and violence and brotherhood. Could it change with Caspar in charge? Because that’s what was happening to Defiance and she didn’t understand how no one else could see it. Maybe it was one of the benefits of being an outsider on this occasion, but things had shifted. Subtly, but there was a difference in how Caspar was treated.

He was still a loner, but that was more by choice than anything. He was respected, more so than Silas.

Caspar was taking control of Defiance, and she’d pledged herself to him. Lance would have to be blind and deaf not to have noticed.

“Are you here...for the bonding?” she asked. The process had become more complex these days, with private and public parts. It wasn’t always done with a celebration, because circumstances weren’t always prime.

“No. Not tonight.”

“When? Because what you did tonight, you did for me.”

He didn’t contradict her. “Still waitin’ to see what in the hell you’ll do for me.”

“I chose you.”

“Not choosing when you didn’t get a choice, when you’re out of options, backed against the wall.”

“I came back for you.”

“You didn’t come directly back. Made a pit stop, went to Paddy. Kept running from Defiance and me, same way you always did.”

“I left because I didn’t think there were any other options for me. At least not here. When I ran, I just wanted to live, away from the club.”

She’d known everything would be worse for her when the Chaos persisted. There were fewer options for all of them. She’d tried living on her own for a while, unprotected, but that wasn’t an option for long.

She’d learned that the hard way, and she refused to think on that how or why, refused to reveal that to Caspar. Not now.

She didn’t even want to think about what happened herself, never mind share it.

Caspar was watching her, the pale blue eyes sliding over her body, then back up to her face. “You went to Paddy—handed yourself right to the enemy.”

“I had a plan.”

“Guess you always did. Get me into your pants, get me to take you out of here. Now, you’re back, expectin’ me to save your ass. Again.”

She almost slapped him. Almost, because his fingers threaded around her wrist like a vise before she’d moved a muscle. His eyes were stormy, warning her to never make a mistake like that again. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Don’t know what it was like. What’s done is done.” He paused. “Shit, Tru, you don’t know what the hell you walked into. Don’t know what’s happening here, don’t know me. Not anymore. Never really did.”

That stung her. “I know what you do. You’re an Enforcer. So was Hugh.”

“I don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re in for. You sign on for this, you know the rules. You got a problem with that? Because you sure didn’t when you marched across the compound and put your hooks into me.”

“My hooks?” She crossed her arms to stop herself from reaching out and shoving him backward. He wouldn’t have moved, no doubt, but it would’ve felt good.

“Usin’ me to survive. Gotta give it to you, Tru—you’re tough.”

“This is about more than that. If you bond with me, I’ll prove it. I’ll tell Silas what I did with you.”

Cas grabbed her roughly, kissed her and she moaned against his mouth. Her fingers curled along his cheek, like maybe she wanted to scratch him, but instead she ran a fingertip along the scar as he kissed her.

“Tell him I fucked you and you left? You really do want to die,” he said when he pulled back, stepping away from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he was trying to erase what happened.

“Are you worried I’ll take you with me?”

His lip twisted in a way that told her he wasn’t afraid of that at all.

“I want Silas and everyone else to know you’re not second choice. Not at all.”

“Don’t give a shit. Like I said, haven’t made my decision. You’ll hear it when everyone else does.”

“Do you think things can change?” She stared at him, suddenly desperately wanting to know if he believed that.

“Things? Or people?”

“Both.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Caspar shook his head. “So fucking innocent, Tru. You always were.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded with a ferocity she shouldn’t show in front of him and somehow always did. His would match hers, override it. Destroy them both if they weren’t careful.

He gazed at her, his blue eyes turning her to ice. “Means you should’ve kept running.”

Chapter Four

The black van looked stealth as hell. Hammer had flagged it outside the gates and called for Caspar to come talk to the two former military guys looking for some R&R in Defiance.

Probably needed to hide too—Caspar’d bet anything they were AWOL. Most military who came through here were, since the military wasn’t discharging anyone these days, no matter how old or sick or weak. There was too much instability.

That meant there was also a lot of instability inside of the military.

“Got their own weapons. Snipers,” Hammer told him.

Snipers were like goddamned gold these days—they were trained to remain calm. Good at recon. And Caspar would bet they were both crack shots.

This wasn’t the time and place for hair-trigger tempers. The men the MC took in might’ve been trained for war, but their main task would be to help keep the peace.

It was easy to overreact. It was the worst time to do so.

He was thankful that the MC hadn’t eroded into anarchy and that the men who reported to him appreciated his style of leadership. He’d spilled blood for Defiance by the time he’d turned fifteen, knew what it was like to finally find a place you felt you belonged.

“Let ’em through,” Caspar told Hammer. “Tell them to pull to the warehouse.”

He walked toward it, waited for the van to catch up. It would take a few minutes to get them through the gates—things were high tech here, because Defiance was serious about using military grade security. They had Beowulf rifles that could shatter concrete and brick. Embassy Ten film that held glass together instead of letting it shatter was on all the windows in the clubhouse and outdoor structures.

Of course, the location for the compound had been key when the original members scouted for the right town. Terrain was always the first line of defense and from the main gates, there was a clear line of sight. There was only one way in, which forced people to bottleneck, so they could be picked off easily.

Over the years, they’d allowed a side entrance that was always guarded as well. Both were equipped with military-grade pivot gates—they could easily stop a ten-ton truck going fifty.

There was also software that they couldn’t currently get online without major repairs to the communications network, but Defiance had invested in things like recognition software that worked not just on faces, but the way people walked.

And Caspar was in charge of all of it, plus enforcing. They’d drilled before the Chaos, but now they worked on precision. It’s what the MC was born from. He took pride in that, in staying true to the club’s roots.

Ten minutes later, the black van with the darkened windows practically glided along the road. Silent and deadly, just like snipers themselves.

He leaned against one of the old convertibles he’d been working on in his spare time and watched the men exit the van and come toward him. Dark and light, they moved in tandem, like they’d been friends for a long time.

The dark-haired one gave the military hand signal for friendlies when he got close and Caspar asked, “Ties to Defiance?”

The dark-haired one shook his head no. Pointed to the lighter-haired man’s dog tags that hung outside his T-shirt and that guy said, “We’re Navy. Heard Defiance is looking for more guys who can handle weapons. I’m Bishop—that’s Mathias.”

Bishop stuck his hand out, oddly formal, and Caspar shook it, started to introduce himself when Bishop said, “We know who you are. You’re well known as Defiance’s new Enforcer.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

Mathias signed, his fingers flying. Bishop glanced at him and then told Caspar, “Good. Definitely. We’re looking for a place to land. We’ve got our own transport and weapons. We won’t be burdens.”

“Are you wanted?”

It would be easy for them to lie, but neither man did, both nodding simultaneously.

“Isn’t everyone?” Bishop asked then.

Caspar snorted but hell yeah, technically, he’d been AWOL for the past two years—he’d been on family emergency leave to take over when Hugh got too sick, had been home for several months when the Chaos hit and no one from the military came calling for him to head back. He studied the two men and their easy but respectful posture and knew there was more to this story.

Lots of random AWOLs came through Defiance. Very few wanted to join up. Mostly, they wanted parties and pussy and booze and not necessarily in that order.

Caspar figured he’d have time to pick it all apart. “Think we can work something out. Park behind the warehouse. No one will fuck with it. Then follow me—you can stay in my place for now.”

He felt the surprise pass between the two men, and these were guys who didn’t surprise often. They’d come to him for a specific reason—to
him
, not Lance, but the fact they weren’t playing those cards made him more inclined to trust rather than the other way around.

Mathias

Driving into Defiance and asking to see the Enforcer wasn’t the way it was done. But since the Chaos, my motto had been,
the young and strong shall inherit the earth.
Fuck the meek
, and I didn’t see any reason to change that.

Bish agreed in more than just sentiment. Although he always seemed to be the more peaceful of the two of us, we both knew the truth.

“Got ’em all fooled, Mathias,” Bish would tell me and I’d give him the finger. Hell, we were both comfortable in our roles. I never shut up and he answered in fits and starts, like he’d been doing for the past seventy-two hours we’d been driving, nearly straight through to get to Defiance.

I’d had gas in the back, knew where I could grab some along the way. Being in the military gave me the best connections.

Now, we got back into the van and drove to where Caspar had directed us. Bish was silent, turned the radio off immediately. My favorite Metallica song had been playing on a continuous loop on the beat-up CD I refused to give up, but this was the way he got when we were approaching something big.

The Defiance crew was as big as it got these days. It was where we belonged. After spending the past two years in the military, following orders blindly for a nearly non-existent government that was trying hard to stay relevant and didn’t have funding for ammo wasn’t my bag anymore. I was through trying to follow the letter of the law. End of the line.

I’d been trying to convince Bish of that for the past year. I’d stubbornly show Bish the photo that led me here to begin with and he’d stubbornly refuse to agree we needed to come to Defiance for a full six months. Finally, after the last incident involving fighting off a group of renegades trying to steal the last of the food for my military team, we’d killed the renegade bastards and then Bish and I went AWOL. Officially fugitives, like half the country. Bish muttered something about how that must make me happy.

It did.

The world was simply fucked. People existed, people survived. But no one really lived.

I fucking hoped this place would prove me wrong.

Now, I parked the van and Bish and I went through some of our shit, deciding what bags to bring inside with us. I glanced around the sprawling compound.

During the daylight hours—and daylight was a debatable term—most were allowed through to collect supplies or eat at the diner inside the compound. The main clubhouse and other structures were behind another set of gates. I took in all the cabins dotting the area, but it was what lay underneath those structures that made this place special. The Defiance MC didn’t survive the Chaos by luck or accident. They’d planned for it from the 1950s, two Navy men who’d spent enough time on subs to come up with the idea of survival tubes with escape hatches and generators, waterproof, fireproof, bombproof...strong enough to withstand just about anything and keep the people inside safe.

And fucking claustrophobic. I’d spent time in a sub right after the Chaos. Bish was almost climbing the walls.

“Yeah, I remember,” Bish said now. “Tubes are different—you can walk out anytime you want, right?”

Unless there’s a storm.

“Thanks for your optimism.”

Anytime.

When the Chaos hit, I’d been with Bish. Sixteen years old, we’d snuck into the woods to camp out and drink with some of the other kids. It saved our lives. Looking back, I wished sometimes that it hadn’t. Wondered if Bish felt the same.

The other guys ran back to their town. Me and Bish moved forward, stole a car, found the military, which accepted us immediately.

Two years later, we were stronger. Wiser. Disgruntled as shit. And I wasn’t scared of anything until Caspar met me at the gates of Defiance’s main HQ and stared me down. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t fear, but rather a healthy dose of respect.

But man, the guy was scary. Whether he meant to come across that way or not didn’t matter. I figured Caspar was born like that.

Still, he hadn’t asked me the usual dumb
Can’t you speak?
question.

Because if I could fucking speak
,
wouldn’t I?

I’d heard about Defiance from Dad for years while I was growing up, about the amazing survival shelters they’d built. About how they’d been preparing for disasters since the 1960s. And still, I’d kept the father connection to the MC under wraps for now. As we locked the van up, Bish finally asked, “I thought the whole point of coming here was to show him the picture?”

Better to hold something back
, I signed.

“Not from that guy.”

The fact that he’d told Bish and me to stay in his room told me that it was all right. Keep friends close, enemies closer, and he wasn’t sure which we were yet.

We’d owe him
. Based on the rumors we heard, Caspar needed people on his side.