Flesh 01 (4 page)

Both made her jumpy.

Eventually, the infected would lose interest and seek out other prey. Eventually, so too would the oversized male.

“I could give you a hand,” he said, not for the first time.

She didn’t bother to reply.

“You’re kil ing me.”

“I don’t have my shotgun. If I was killing you I’d probably want that,” she pointed out, in a voice so tight it wavered. Being without her shotgun sucked even more of the courage from her. “Where is it?”

His head turned far enough for her to sight his chin, but he stopped short of looking at her. Lucky for him. She had wrapped a towel around herself just in case his curiosity got the better of him.

Ali rolled her shoulders back, gave her armpit a quick sniff. Soap, not sweat. She smelt fresh. It did feel good being clean after so long. He’d been right. Not that he needed to know. The delicate power balance needed to stay in her favor. Trusting him was a tenuous thing.

The bathing had taken up a lot of her water supplies. But being clean was, apparently, a required luxury.

Jerk.

The infected outside bashed at the back door. She forced her shoulders back down from her ears, made herself ignore the sound.

Slow, deep breaths.

“The gun’s on the kitchen counter,” he said, facing mostly forward. “Right where you left it.”

“I saw that, mate. Watch it.”

“Please. Did I turn once while you washed your hair? No. Some of those noises … you should be ashamed of yourself,” he ranted.

Because he was crazy. Crazy with an offbeat charm she struggled to stay immune to. Beware the man that made you smile. “But wait, how about while you frolicked with the soap, did I turn then? No. No, I did not. I kept my word no matter how you baited me. That’s because I’m pussy-whipped and proud.”

“Pussy-whipped. Very nice.” Something stung her knee. Wincing, she lifted the razor from her skin. Great. She’d nicked herself due to focusing on the view instead of shaving.

God, but he filled out blue jeans. His ass was paired with the strong line of his back, framed by a set of broad shoulders encased in a t-shirt that fit right. She tried to ignore him, but her girl bits lacked the moral fortitude, apparently.

And lacked priorities.

It had been a very long time between dates.

And he did have a stellar ass.

Her nipples pebbled from more than the damp. It was surreal to feel feminine. To feel human … A drink would have worked, right about then. “You sure have a way with words.”

“I can’t hold back. You’re such a receptive audience. You love me.”

She snorted and hated herself for it.

“And it’s great to have someone to talk to. Even if I can’t face you while we’re talking, which is plain rude. My mother would have been appalled.” Daniel reached up and leant an arm against the top of the doorframe. His fingers tapped a beat against the old hardwood. Mary’s house wasn’t sized for him. He was going to knock himself out on a doorway if he wasn’t careful.

“Give it up,” she said.

“No chance. Not so long as my pathetic state of affairs amuses you.”

It did. He wasn’t even particularly funny. Probably stress.

Then the thing at the back door went thump. Ali jumped, slicing the side of her ankle. Proving the stress theory right. “Shit.”

“What?” Daniel spun and his face screwed up tight in disbelief, brows drawing together. “You were wearing a towel? For how long?”

He snatched a facecloth from the counter and dropped to his knees, dabbing at the small cut oozing blood. “And you call me untrustworthy.”

“You were fine where you were.” Her hands clutched the top of her towel. “Going from being alone to having you around is an adjustment.”

Daniel grunted. “Question. Have you even fired that gun before today? Not that I’m worried you’ll kill me in my sleep or something.”

“No. Today was the first time.” She held still and watched him tending to the cut. In truth, she had survived more by cowardice, hiding in her attic hole, than cunning. “I probably couldn’t hit a house.”

“You did hit a house. You would have hit me just fine.” Daniel smiled up at her.

There were creases at the edges of his baby blues, faint, paler lines against the tan of his skin. He was maybe forty. He wore it well.

Lovely, faded, denim-blue eyes that held her rapt for a time. If in days gone by he had smiled at her from across a crowded room, she would have smiled back. That much was true.

“I nearly did shoot you,” she said. “Why would you smile at that?”

“Because you didn’t shoot me. Also because you’re wil ing to defend yourself. Taken in the right context, both of these things make me happy.” He grabbed a tube of antiseptic cream from the first-aid kit spread out on the bathroom counter and squeezed some onto his fingers. “Might as well deal with your knee while I’m here. Stay still.”

He frowned and clucked his tongue, thick fingers stroking over the jagged cut on her knee. His touch was extraordinarily gentle.

With his face at her crotch level, she started to sweat. The old towel offered little protection. He was a stranger, although an attractive one. She had stopped sleeping with strangers years ago. Had stopped sleeping with anyone almost a year ago. A woman could be content with her own hand. Shower jet. Toys. It had seemed the simplest solution after the great breakup.

The jumble of emotions tumbling through her was al too much for one day.

“Probably just a nail going under the fence. I can do that.” Ali made a grab for the antiseptic, but Daniel stayed ahead of her, tucking it behind his back. “Personal space?” she asked.

“Hush. This is not good.” He continued administering to her, shuffling closer on his knees. She could feel his warm, damp breath on her leg where the towel skirted her skin. It tickled. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Another thing to worry over. “There might be some antibiotics in the cupboard. I’ll have a look. I think we’re done here.”

“How does it feel?” The corners of his mouth lifted, slowly, and she stared for a moment, bedazzled.

Past time to pul herself together.

Nice face by no means changed the facts. He had barged his way into her safe place. Denied her liberty, yaddah, yaddah.

And oh yeah, she had lost it, big time. Hugely. Right up close and personal.

Shit.

Enough of her normal self remained beside the chunk of space the cowardly rabbit inhabited to wonder if she should be embarrassed or angry or what. He made her feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her missing pants.

The thing at the back door started up a dull, constant hammering. Maybe more than one of them, by the sound of it. They were out there, waiting.

What the fuck was she going to do?

“Hey. It’s okay.” His eyes were full of warmth and affection. It was the sort of gaze you got jealous over when another woman was on the receiving end.

How bizarre, he didn’t even know her.

“No need to panic. We’re safe,” he said. “Everything’s locked tight.”

“Yeah.” Her chin bobbed like a cork on the water. She was safe. In her head she knew it. But in the depths of her rabbity heart, she didn’t believe it. “I should get dressed.”

“Which makes it my turn to clean up.” The big man rose to his feet, taking up all available air space in the tiny bathroom. She tried to withdraw, but the back of her heel connected with the bottom of the cabinet door with a thump. That smarted.

Luckily, Daniel didn’t seem to notice her lack of grace. “Another question. Why were you heading for the roof when this place is locked up tighter than a vault?”

“The last news reports said they didn’t climb well, so it’s safer up there. They said to get onto rooftops, knock out staircases if you could …” Ali shrugged and twisted her lips.

Why had she remained in the dirt and dark when there was a whole house at her disposal? It wasn’t something she cared to review.

“I felt safer up there. Can you move, please? You’re in my way.”

“Yeah, but …”

“Move. Please.”

Daniel said nothing and didn’t move, he stood and stared back down at her from on high, his mouth open slightly. The look he gave said she was a hair's breadth off being loony bin material, but he was too kind to say so. Screw him. Ali bit her cheeks and fought the fear. Being cornered set her off in the worst way and the pushy bastard just kept doing it. He didn’t understand shit. Why she cared what he thought was beyond her. But she did.

“Look, they could stil get in. You don’t know what could happen. If enough of them beat against the door, they could break it down.

Last time I checked, no one had put out a survival guide for this particular scenario so you can keep your fucking opinions to yourself, okay?” The words poured out in a hot rush. Damn. Not good. Maybe she had lost it. “I want to get dressed now.”

“O-kay.” And if that wasn’t said using a “don’t spook the crazy lady” tone of voice, she would eat her big toe.

Ali shoved her wet hair back from her face, then took a breath and tried to calm down. “Can you move …”

“We can find a safer place out west, you know.” With no warning Daniel whipped his t-shirt off over his head, dropped it to the ground and started in on his belt buckle.

Like it was no big deal.

Holy hell he was fit. And standing way too close. His upper body was perfectly defined. What the hell had he been doing since civilization fell apart?

The oxygen had long since left the room, for her at least. She needed a paper bag to breathe into. Now would be good. “Wh-what?”

“Yeah, yeah. Something with a decent fence we can build up so we can be safe out and about during the day. Be able to see anything coming at us from a distance.” Busy hands made short work of belt and button and zipper. Her face went nuclear. She held up her hands to cover her cheeks while his jeans dropped and his plans grew.

It was difficult to know which alarmed her more.

“I’ve been using a trail bike, but we could switch to a small four-wheel drive. We can just switch cars when we hit a roadblock we can’t get around. What do you think?”

Think? Yes, she needed to think. To do that he had to stop. All of it. He had to stop pushing. “Wait.”

“I say we head out tomorrow. You can get packed up by then, yeah?” He propped his hands on lean hips, thumbs tucked beneath the waistband of his black cotton boxers like a threat, or a promise. She wasn’t sure which. His big hands framed the ridges and planes of muscle from abdomen up to his chest, fancy tattoos sitting atop each big buff shoulder, done in shades of green and gray and blue. He was a work of art.

Her knees wobbled.

With a particularly pained expression, he asked, “What’s wrong now?”

“You. You need to back off.” The flats of her palms connected with the heat of his chest as she did her best to shove him. “Give me some space. Now.”

The big guy gifted her one small step backward and hung his head. Lips compressed and jaw stern, he looked up at her from beneath dark brows. “Ali …”

“No. You need to back off. This isn’t going to work.”

The big man swore. Repeatedly. “You’ve been living up in the roof for what? Six, seven weeks? Coming down to scavenge when you have no other choice? That’s not living, and we both know it. The world may have gone to shit but we’re still alive, don’t you think it’s time to start acting like it?”

Her face must have conveyed her doubt over the pep talk because he groaned and ran a hand over the choppy, badly cut, short dark head of hair. He seemed beyond irate with his eyes narrowed. It wasn’t her damn fault he barged in and took over without a thought.

Various muscles around his mouth tightened, as if he wanted to yell at her but held it in. She could relate. It was going around.

Final y, he rolled his shoulders, like a fighter getting ready to head back into the ring. He gave her a long hard stare and she did her best not to blink. Her frightened inner rabbit wanted to scamper as escape scenarios raced through her mind. Daniel noticed her reaction and the growl amped up a notch as he took yet another step back. This one was sizably bigger than the last; he was almost back to standing in the doorway. “Better?”

She nodded.

“Fuck’s sake.” His mouth opened then shut, as if he too had just noticed the lack of oxygen in the room. “Fine, maybe you don’t need me. Truth is … I need you.”

She stopped.

Daniel crossed thick arms over his chest and glared back at her. A purely defensive stance, she knew it well. Her own arms were crossed and bolted down over her breasts, which might have been his point. She was the one locked down. He simply mirrored her tight-ass ways.

And he looked downright stupid in Mary’s flowery feminine house. He was so big and intimidating. No wonder she had run like a rabbit. She winced at the angry red lines crisscrossing his tanned skin. Her work. But struggling had gotten her nowhere. He stood there barefoot, waiting on her in his underwear.

She focused on his toes because they were easier to fix on than his face or the rest of his stupendous body.

What the hell was she going to do with him?

Suddenly, he stuck his hand out. “Shake. We’re starting over. Clean slate. Pretend we just met, like it’s our first date or something.”

“Our first date?”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug, face careful y bland, but the lines around his eyes remained tight, sharply embedded. “You get the drift.”

His big hand hung there in the space between them. In many ways, she would be trusting her life to that handshake. Not a

“throw

caution to the wind ”, idle sort of undertaking. Al of this felt weighty, and she had no crystal ball to tell if he was good or bad, right or wrong. She had no way of knowing since the world had gone so spectacularly to shit.

Moments passed and the hand did not so much as waver. He waited her out with absolute patience. As signs went, it wasn’t bad.

“Alright.” She held her hand out, and he covered it with both of his.

“Daniel Cross, forty-one, single.” He paused and gave her a wary glance, turned his face aside. “Divorced actually, a long time ago.