Paired Objective: Matched Desire, Book 2 (12 page)

“Can I drive?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“You have a license?” Russ asked.

“I was sixteen when the world ended, so yep. If you want to see it, though, you’ll have to dig it out of my former home. I think I left it under the bed in a fireproof box.”

Proof that she’d once existed, mixed up with millions of other pieces of evidence. Maybe one day the Barks would evolve enough to delve into archaeology. Maybe another race of aliens would come along and conquer
them
.

There were too many damn maybes in life.

Neither man answered her question. She glanced between them both, noting the slight distance in their eyes. Talking among themselves—no, arguing, judging by the tension in their bodies. All rigid, they weren’t as comfortable to lean against. Some of her postcoital bliss evaporated.

“Well?” she demanded, annoyed at being left out. It was like she was between two people speaking in another language as they deliberately excluded a nonspeaker.

“Bit concerned about you driving.” Russ came to long enough to give her a snappy soundbite before going back to his argument.

Oh, so they didn’t want
her
to drive, but they couldn’t settle upon which of
them
was going to do it. Her eyes narrowed and she sat up, all languidness chased away by a flash of anger as she split a glare between the men.

So they were fighting over which of them got the privilege of holding her in the aftermath? Screw that.

“I’ll sit in the back while you argue over me,” she snapped. “I don’t play games like this, and I’m not some toy you can fight over.”

Abby got to her feet and moved past them to the rearmost bench seat, ignoring their twin expressions of chagrin. Curling up, she buckled herself in and closed her eyes.

Chapter Seven

“Goddammit
,” Russ snapped, inserting the word into his brother’s mind with as much force as he could muster.
“Now look what’s happened
.
”

There was a short silence as Cam looked over his shoulder.
“Yeah, she’s taken her ball and gone home.”

“I’ll drive, then.”

“No, I can.”
Cam rubbed his hand over his face.

“For fuck’s sake, have we morphed into teenagers again?”
Being telepathically linked was rough sometimes, and the scientists had occasionally compared them to physically conjoined human twins. Two minds, two bodies, twice the sensations.

“And double the fucking trouble,”
Cam snapped.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m possessive as hell over her. I’m struggling with that.”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one struggling. Remember, though, it’d be worse if we didn’t share her.”

“Worse for our laundry,”
Cam retorted.

Now there was a glimpse of his irrepressible brother. Some of Russ’s tension eased slightly.

“There is that
.
”
Russ paused.
“I’m going to drive, okay? You’re short on sleep.”

“I guess I should get a bit of shut-eye.”
Cam clapped him on the shoulder as he rose, tacit apology for his behavior. Russ zipped his jeans up and headed for the driver’s seat. The van purred to life—now that was one thing finally going their way, a decent vehicle. Shame about the plane, though.

Then again, they likely wouldn’t have seen the female Barks if they’d gone straight for the Complex. Russ was glad he had been able to observe them in person rather than relying on secondhand information. He’d always learned better through experience. Studying theory was no match for hands-on knowledge.

His commtab had been buzzing since the wee hours, news and rumors all mixed up together. There had been two confirmed spaceship landings, one near Columbus, the other in Northern California. Rumors placed another female ship near Dallas, another near Missoula in Montana. It was almost as if the aliens had collaborated to spread themselves out evenly throughout the country, if not the world.

Was that even possible? Did those undulating dog-shark bastards have the mental capacity for that kind of thinking?

Russ concentrated on the road for a while, mulling that thought over in the back of his head. Cam was zonked by now, spread out on the middle bench seat. In the rear, Abby’s eyes were closed, although the slight tension in her body made him think she was still awake.

His heart seemed to twinge every time he looked at her, as if it were melting around the edges. She’d been so soft, so sweet, lying there with an open invitation on her face. Russ gripped the steering wheel, reliving the moment he’d slid inside her.

Yeah,
that
had been worth the wait.

On the other hand, he craved Abby with an intensity that almost frightened him.

Addiction scared Russ. He’d seen his human brother—stepbrother, technically—fall into a drug-addled abyss back in the pre-Invasion days when coke was available on the street corner. Russ had tried the drug once, snorting it up for a high so powerful he never wanted to come down. He’d been able to walk away—barely—but Joe couldn’t.

Joe had died before the Invasion. It was a mercy, his foster parents had said, that Joe never had to suffer the pangs of withdrawal. It would have been more of a damn mercy if he’d never gotten hooked in the first place.

Even now, illegal drugs still proliferated in Cities. Mostly Turq, an easily manufactured synthetic that addicts huffed in small plastic bags. It lent them a long, floaty high, leaving them in a semi-daze for hours on end.

Russ steered clear of it all. If he was tempted once, what was to stop him from being tempted again?

Maybe that attitude spilled over into how he acted around women. Shifting his attention between individuals, never falling for one specific person, never letting them do more than give him a quick blowjob—all of that ensured Russ would never become addicted.

If someone had told him at the beginning of the mission that he’d fall for the woman he was meant to rescue, he would have laughed.

If he’d been told he and his brother would fall for the same woman…

I would’ve fucking punched them
.

Guiltily, he flicked a look at the rear-view mirror. His vociferous thought made Cam stir, but the other man didn’t wake. That was good—Cam had spent the last six months pretty much bailing Russ out, smoothing over harsh words or ruffled feelings and running interference between Russ and their superiors whenever necessary. They wouldn’t have gotten this mission if it hadn’t been for Cam’s flying skills. They’d have sent more compliant Twins.

Russ hadn’t pulled anything serious—nothing more than toeing the line by questioning some of the orders they’d been given. Certainly there were more rebellious Twins. Some had absconded altogether, leaving their badges behind as they fled the Complex altogether. Rumors flew, of course. Russ didn’t believe all the AWOL Twins had joined the Shadow Feds—that would be like jumping from one frying pan to another.

He did put some stock in the idea that some men had formed a kind of Complex of their own, a ranch way out in the wilds of Wyoming. More power to those men. He hoped it was true, that they were living in peace, unfettered by the various commands the government inflicted upon them.

Then there were others, like the Italian Triplets, who prowled the edges of disobedience, never quite going over into court martial territory yet keeping their superiors on their toes. And there were plenty more on the level below, men who he sensed would protest if given a slight push. Finn and Gareth sprang to mind—the latter had attended meetings where they’d discussed independence.

Now that they had a woman of their own, flouting the
no long-term relationships
command, Russ resolved to seek their advice. Abby was going to live with them at the Complex. He would entertain no argument on that front.

The idea gave him a measure of peace for the first time in over a year. He studied Abby in the rear-view mirror, noting the way her chest rose and fell rhythmically, suggesting she was finally truly asleep. He turned his attention back to the road, taking care to drive around the larger potholes. The van actually weathered the smaller bumps pretty well. Not that it was a suitable trade-off for the airplane.

Then again, Abby might have been whisked away as soon as they’d reached the Complex. They’d likely never have gotten past the initial animal attraction.

Then he’d have dreamed of her for the rest of his life, always wondering what might have been.

Cam was the one who was comfortable with women. He found it easy to talk to anyone, to slip away with a fling into the shadows for a quickie. He’d always warn Russ before anything serious happened, of course. That way Russ had the time to prepare.

Not that he
always
blew his load when his brother did. But being connected was like having a ghost body, so he’d spent too many times helplessly jacking off in the bathroom. To have a woman they could share, a woman who belonged with them…

Cart ahead of the goddamn horse.
Russ breathed out a long, silent sigh. They needed to deal with a whole bunch of shit before anything else. Cam had jealousy issues, Russ needed time to get used to having an actual relationship, and Abby was being pursued by a group of ruthless bastards.

The latter was something Russ was confident he could deal with.

Over the past few years, he’d developed something of a reputation as a fighter, enough that his superiors knew they could rely on him for the more violent missions. He’d relished those assignments up until a few months ago. Then he had begun to realize the violence was slowly, inexorably changing him.

“Your fuse is a lot shorter,” Cam had once dared to comment six months ago or so. They’d been in the air at the time, scoping out small rural communities and noting the locations for map purposes. He hadn’t replied, because what could he say to that? His brother was right. His temper
was
worse.

The better to kill the enemy, he’d rationalized.

Then one day, he’d nearly throttled another Twin just for drunkenly bumping into him at a party.
That
had nearly cost him this mission. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Cam’s influence, he’d be cooling his heels on desk duty.

Attaching his commtab to the dash, Russ tapped until the map on the screen zoomed out enough to give him a larger picture of the United States. It was a fully updated map—or as fully updated as they could get these days with patchy satellite service. President Wright was making a lot of noise about carrying out a Census as soon as possible. For now, however, they had to rely on Twin observations, irregular reconnaissance flights, and word-of-mouth to keep the maps updated.

Scar City had turned into a black square on his screen, an indication that the aliens had taken it over. There were other black cities, both domestic and international, scattered across the map. Too many of them.

A City, capital C, denoted a place with walls and relatively beefy defenses. A city…well, Russ wasn’t naïve enough to assume those places didn’t have a few human denizens. Diehards, mostly, a little like homesteaders of the old West. Deluded into believing if they occupied the area long enough, they’d own the area instead of the aliens.

Russ zoomed in again, reviewing his route. It was likely the Shadow Feds had dispatched someone to check out the stolen commtab—after what Abby did, the bastards would be out for blood—but it would be impossible for anyone to catch up with them today, even if they took the same road.

Unless they had access to a chopper or similar. He mulled that over, finally discarding it as too outlandish. Entitled as they were, even the self-styled senators had to recognize some limits. Namely, that gas was way too expensive to waste on flimsy recon missions.

The safe house bunker was outside City walls, only marked on his map through code. Even if the government maps were hacked into, the hackers would have to break that code to figure out the precise location. Although…Russ frowned, suddenly remembering the Twins who had defected, Slater and Arden. Did
they
know the code? Would the senators have drafted them into helping pursue Abby?

If so, they were still in danger. Looking in the mirror at Abby’s sleeping face, Russ vowed the Fed bastards wouldn’t touch a curly hair on her head—not without reckoning with him first.

* * * * *

Cool air on her face roused Abby. Barely moving a muscle, she slit her eyes open, a survival technique she’d honed over the past eleven years.

Still in the van. Not moving. Engine off. Neither Twin present.

Opening her eyes fully, Abby sat up and threw off the blanket one of the men had carefully tucked around her at some point. The sun slanted in at an angle that suggested morning was long gone.

The van was no longer on the main highway but at the side of a much smaller road, the asphalt of which was pocked to hell and back. There’d been no attempt to fill the holes in. That meant they were pretty far from the beaten path. Certainly nowhere near a City.

And there was still no sight of the Twins.

As silently as possible, Abby opened the rear door, taking in her surroundings as thoroughly as she could. The grass on the verge was long and filled with weeds, and the always-growing forest threatened to eat the road sooner rather than later. The nearest roots already buckled the surface a few hundred feet down the road.

Unzipping her bag, she pulled out the handgun she’d taken from the control room at Headquarters. Then she paced a few steps away from the van, looking up and down the road as worry gnawed at her insides like acid. There was no way Russ and Cam would have abandoned her. She was confident about that.

But if they’d spotted a threat, they might not have woken her before going out to deal with it. And as Cam had pointed out earlier, they weren’t infallible.

Undergrowth crackled. Abby dropped to one knee, holding the gun in a two-handed grip and aiming it in the direction of the forest. One finger caressed the trigger.

A combat boot-clad man strode into the open, beelining for the van. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun. “Abby, whoa.”

Russ. It was Russ. Her relief manifested in a slight shakiness as she flicked the safety back on. “Whoa yourself,” she muttered, and tucked the gun away before Russ could do something overly protective like take it away from her. His alertly speculative look made her smug—so they hadn’t noticed all this time that she’d tucked that gun into her bag?

Good.

She rose, dusting off her knee, and scoped the area. Were they at the bunker? She couldn’t see anything save for the thinnest of deer trails through the forest. If anyone lived around here, they were careful not to broadcast their habitation too clearly. Abby would never have noticed the path from the van.

“Is this where we’re going to stay?”

“Yep.” Russ responded to the dubious note in her voice by pacing closer. “The bunker’s in that forest, underground. It was built sometime during the Cold War and kept under wraps by the government since. Why they’d want a nuclear bunker in rural Ohio is anyone’s guess. Cam suspects they built it for shits and giggles. Then kept it for special, official parties.”

“Parties?” Abby snickered. The earlier adrenaline rush left her veins, leaving her shaky but relaxed. “Is there any leftover alcohol?”

“Not any longer.” Russ actually looked disappointed. So he drank? Partied? What was his social life like?

Maybe life for the Twins was all work and no play. Abby frowned. If that were so, it was no wonder Russ seemed to have a stick up his butt sometimes. She gave him a sideways glance, taking in his muscular body, his wide stance and clasped hands. Postcoital tension? She didn’t know what to say to cure that unless she trotted out some cheesy line from a movie.
Was it as good for you as it was for me?