The Last True Hero (The Burned Lands Book 2) Page 7

  Jenny wasn't mother material. Nothing like Susan. She'd been hard and fair, but she wasn't the sort you went to when you wanted a hug. She usually preferred her own company, and when Sage moved out with Jake, and Mia moved into the bar, she had the run of the house.

  But when it came to protecting her own, Jenny had your back.

  "There they go," Jenny whispered, watching Jake and McClain slip through the shadows of the evening.

  Two guards on rotation meant two targets. McClain had laid out the entire plan with military precision back at their camp. Where she'd spent time trying to see her sister through the binoculars, he'd been making ruthless calculations.

  Mia stilled, almost holding her breath.

  A scrape sounded to her left. Then a hushed noise, as if someone lowered a body to the asphalt.

  Another sound—louder this time. A startled "mmph" that was swiftly cut off with a quick hand over the mouth, she imagined. A boot lashed out, scraping along the ground. She caught a glimpse of it through the dusty windowpane of the car they sheltered behind.

  Jake.

  Shadows rippled behind her and Jenny. Thwaites and his men running low across the ground to take cover behind the cars near them.

  Jenny made a quick slashing movement with her hand, and Thwaites nodded, pressing his back to a jeep.

  Silence. Stillness.

  A faint bird cry whistled. A mountain bluebird. That was the sign.

  Go, go, go. Mia followed Jenny, bending low as they scuttled around the cars and the crumpled statue.

  A scream suddenly echoed. It cut off abruptly, but it was clear they'd lost the element of surprise.

  And it also meant Jake and McClain were in the reiver camp with no backup.

  "Move out!" Jenny bellowed.

  She went left. Mia went right. The plan was for the pair of them to circle the camp and hit the reivers from the sides. It also meant that the women and men trapped in the pit were protected, in case the reivers realized they were losing the fight and decided to go down bloody.

  Bullets ricocheted as Thwaites and his group hit the camp. Mia caught flashes of the fight as she ran. Reivers swarmed out of their blankets, laying hand to sawn-off shotguns, knives, and on one occasion, a chain.

  Flames flared as someone threw something on the campfire. Suddenly the whole world flared bright, and she lost her night vision even as the fire died down just as suddenly.

  Shit. She was blind. Mia caught a shadow out of the corner of her vision and ducked. The chain rippled through the air an inch above her head. She spun around and fired the shotgun.

  The shot almost blew her back off her feet. She wasn't prepared, and staggered into the side of the building.

  Stupid. Stupid... She knew better than that. She'd spent years filling old cans with holes. Funny how different it seemed in the heart of the action. Cans didn't shoot back, for one. Mia jacked the shotgun rounds out. Her hands fumbled as she hastily reloaded.

  Don't look down. She still caught a glimpse of the female reiver she’d just shot. Mia stepped forward, ignoring the body, the fight taking shape in front of her again as her vision slowly returned.

  Too late. A baseball bat swung toward her. Mia flinched backward. Pain exploded through her shoulder, and she lost the shotgun as she went down.

  "Mia!" McClain's voice.

  She scrambled to her feet. Move or die. Those were the options. The reiver came out of nowhere, swinging the baseball bat again. His head exploded right in front of her. The body jerked, knees caving out from under it.

  Okay. Okay. Mia panted as she stared at him. Her shoulder ached, but she wasn't dead. Yet. A shadow moved in front of her. Another reiver. Mia didn't think this time. She slammed a palm up under the bastard's chin, snapping his head back. Her good hand. The second he went down, she turned and snatched at the shotgun, swinging around and jamming the butt of it into another reivers face. Something in her shoulder felt like a knife going in, and she knew she hadn't hit hard enough.

  Swinging the butt back into her hands, she pumped the shotgun, her left hand moving weakly, and fit the butt of the shotgun to her shoulder this time, welding her cheek to the stock. Her lower arm felt numb, but she managed it. Then she pulled the trigger.

  More blood. More... stuff.

  Mia nearly threw up, her throat constricting on her. Move! She screamed at herself.

  But the fight was dying down. Jenny put another round into the second reiver near Mia's feet, her face blank as though this were just another day. Thwaites stood behind the fire, directing men. And McClain stared at Mia across the camp, blood spattered up his arms and firelight reflecting back off his eyes. He met her gaze, then nodded.

  Good work.

  It was done. She and Jenny had taken the brunt of it as the reivers tried to flee from the onslaught. Cowards, one and all.

  "Get the girls out," Jenny told her, limping around the camp. She pumped another round into a groaning reiver and he fell still.

  "Are you hurt?" Mia demanded.

  "Just a scratch," Jenny shot back. "Get moving."

  She didn't quite believe her aunt, but there were other concerns right now. Sage.

  Scrambling to her hands and knees, Mia peered over the edge of the hole. Dirty faces looked up and flinched away from her. Some of them were crying. One girl rocked, blood on her skirts and wrists. Genevieve Adams, she thought.

  Then one of them gasped. "Mia!"

  And a wave of hope spread from soft lips. Hands reached toward her. Desperate faces. Maura Adams... Jin Cho... Ellie Thwaites... Tara Macklemore... on and on, until a small cold fist formed in her chest. No Sage. There was no sign of her sister and it was hard to look at the women they'd rescued—those hopeful, relieved faces—and not feel some small scrap of despair, when she knew she should be relieved too.

  "Is Sage here?" she demanded.

  Ellie Thwaites shook her head. "No. Mia, I'm so sorry. They took her."

  "Who?"

  "Rykker. The one in charge." Ellie visibly swallowed. "There was a fight, and he and his men took a handful of the girls. They were planning on taking us all, but then Yanno and his crew rallied and they fled."

  Every one of her worst fears came true. Disappointment lodged like a fist in her throat, and rage screamed inside her chest.

  "Mia?" Ellie asked softly.

  Sage wasn't the only one she'd vowed to rescue. Mia stuffed all her emotions into a little box deep inside. It was the same way she'd gotten through her parents’ funeral, and the long aftermath.

  "We're here," Mia said, tossing the rope ladder the reivers had used into the pit. She couldn't think about Sage right now or she'd break. There were things to be done in the meantime. "Let's get you all out of here."

  Nine

  "ELLIE! OH, ELLIE! You're back!" Thwaites wrapped his eldest daughter in his arms, dragging her against his chest so tightly that the girl cried out.

  "Dad!" she said, pushing him away just enough to look at him. "What happened to your arm?"

  Thwaites shook his head as if it didn't matter. "Where's Alice? Where's your mother?" He brushed past Ellie, looking around until he caught sight of Alice. The young sixteen-year-old hurtled into his arms and he closed his eyes, relief shining across his stark features. Just for a moment though. "Helen?"

  "Dad." This time Ellie caught his arm, her eyes shining suspiciously. Reaching out, she drew her little sister, Alice, into a one-armed hug.

  He looked at them. And he knew. Mia saw it in his face as he looked between both girls' faces. "No," Thwaites whispered, sinking to his knees. "No!"

  Something in Mia's chest shriveled up and died. She wasn't the only one missing a piece of her heart right now. And if she told herself that often enough, then she wouldn't feel bitter.

  At least she still had a chance to find her sister. Helen Thwaites was never coming home. Ellie and Alice would never hold their mother again.

  "Mom wouldn't listen," Ellie told him, cradling his shaking head agai
nst her waist. She looked up and met Mia's eyes, as if aware they had an audience. "She went down fighting," she said fiercely, as if that mattered.

  All around the camp the same scenes echoed. Men sobbing as they hugged their wives and daughters to them. Marisol, the young woman who'd insisted upon coming even though she'd never held a shotgun in her life, yanked her bruised brother into her arms as if she'd never let him go again. And others like Mia looked around, as if the very absence of their loved ones had been a punch in the face.

  Six. There were six people missing who should have been there.

  And Sage was one of them.

  Mia could only stand it for another minute before she had to get out of there. Nobody noticed her leave. Pushing through the door into the hotel foyer, she found herself in the courtyard beyond, a half dozen frogs and crickets chirping in the night and the breeze sloughing away the grief that stained her. The floor was filthy. Leaves and rubbish piled up in the corners, as if blown there. The courtyard looked like it had been covered in a glass roof once, but now the plants had taken over. Moonlight streamed through the open hole, but the garden was mostly shadows.

  McClain followed her, snagging her wrist. "Hey."

  "Please," she whispered, letting her hair fall across her face to hide her gleaming eyes. "I need a moment alone."

  He hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea, right now."

  Those missing reiver bodies.... A chill ran through her, but it felt like she was walled off somehow. She should care. She should have thought about that.

  But she didn't.

  "Here." Warm hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up. Those green eyes swam into view, his brow notched down in a frown. "Do you want a hug? No judgment, no reading into things. If you need someone to lean on right now, I'm offering it."

  Tears sprang into her eyes. It sounded like everything she'd ever wanted—and perhaps he was right. She didn't need to be alone right now, even if it was her usual modus operandi.

  "My sister's not there," she said hoarsely as he opened his arms. She could remember the first time she'd ever seen Sage, a girl of around three, with ragged red curls and tear-stained eyes. Her mom had brought her home after Sage's mom's funeral, and told Mia that Sage was hers to look after now.

  "I know."

  There was a weight of meaning in those two words, and she didn't want to deal with it at this moment. Mia slid into his arms, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. Strong arms curled around her, holding her against a body that was warm and strong and comforting.

  She let a shudder rack through her, swallowing hard. All of those emotions were fighting to get out of that box. If she let them, she'd drown. "Thank you."

  "It's all right, Mia." A callused palm snagged in her hair as McClain stroked her skull. "You're not alone and this isn't done. If she's not here then we'll find her."

  We. The word struck her straight through the heart. It meant everything right now.

  "Why are you doing this?" she whispered hoarsely.

  McClain owed them nothing. He'd just been a stranger riding through town, one trying to find himself in the bottom of a bottle of her finest whiskey.

  "Every hero needs a cause," he replied jokingly. "Isn't that what you said to me once?"

  She realized she was crying, and tried to wipe her eyes. She was wetting his shirt. God. Mia struggled but he shushed her, rocking her gently. She settled for dragging the back of her hand across her eyes.

  "Where were you when I was eighteen?" A man like McClain would have bowled her straight off her feet, and then the entire mess with Jake would never have happened.

  He laughed under his breath, his entire chest expanding against hers. "Probably trying to rope an entire town into order."

  That was the first she'd heard of that. Mia brushed the backs of her fingers against his nape. His tawny brown hair was cut short, and it prickled her skin.

  It had been a long time since she'd touched a man like this.

  A long time since she'd wanted to.

  And that was when she realized her breasts were pressed flush against him, all soft lushness against the hard planes of his body. Sweat dampened his collar. Suddenly the heat against her skin wasn't simply his body heat. Mia shifted, and he must have felt it for he looked down, just as she looked up.

  Those strong arms—as reassuring as they were—weren't what she wanted, right now.

  No. She wanted oblivion. Sweet oblivion. To feel and not think a thing at all. Something to fight off all those emotions swarming her. She could barely see in the dark, but she could just make out his lips. Firm lips they were, not the kind of mouth that curved in a smile very often, but still dangerously tempting. And she was so close to breaking that she desperately needed to drive the image of her sister out of her mind before she lost it.

  Tilting her mouth to his, Mia slid a hand behind his nape and dragged his face down. Their lips met, hers hungry and ravening; his hesitant.

  McClain froze. "Mia."

  "Shut up and kiss me," she breathed against his skin.

  There was no more resistance. McClain melted against her, capturing her mouth in a gentle caress. She'd expected more, but the simple affection in the touch rocked her, just as much as the sensation of passion did. His hands slid from her arms, down to her waist and back up again. His hesitation vanished as Mia thrust her tongue against his, earning a growl from his throat and a faint, teasing thrust of his hips, as if he couldn't help himself.

  Yes. Mia planted both hands in the center of his chest and pushed him against the wall.

  Kissing him grounded her, in more ways than one. Not alone. Not right now. She threw herself into it, hands greedy as McClain made a growling protest sound in his throat.

  The hard press of his erection dug into her belly and Mia slid her hands between them, wrenching his shirt out of his jeans—

  "Christ," he cursed. "Mia... Mia." Capturing her face in his hands, he drew back. Inches separated them, McClain's eyes flashing green in the faint moonlight. Tension knotted his body into a faint rebuke, and Mia hesitated.

  "You don't want it?" she whispered. When had that changed? He'd made it clear two days ago that if she wanted a fuck all she had to do was ask.

  McClain shuddered, closing his eyes. "Of course I want you. You don't know how damned much." Taking her hand, he dragged it toward him and for a moment she thought he was going to place it over his cock, but he lifted it instead, eyes opening to lock on hers as he pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.

  The scrape of his stubble made her palm tingle, but more than that was the look in his eyes... both scorching and tender, the green blaze of his irises softening into regret.

  Mia's heart shifted in her chest. She felt utterly breathless. This was more emotion she couldn't deal with right now.

  "Not now," he said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "When we come together it's going to be amazing, Mia. But this isn't amazing—this is just using each other for a moment's respite."

  "It would still feel good."

  Heat flared in his gaze, but he didn't move toward her. "Your sister's missing, and you're upset—"

  "I wouldn't regret it," she told him, placing her hand flat against his chest. The steady throb of his heartbeat pulsed against her palm. Mia licked her lips. "You wouldn't be taking advantage of me, McClain. I'm a grown woman with a mind of my own and I'm not afraid to take what I want, when I want it. You and me—"

  "You're presuming I want to be some anonymous fuck."

  That shocked her.

  They regarded each other in silence, the hot rush of blood drowning out every other sound—but for the racing pant of her breath. And his. Mia dragged her hand away from his chest, curling it in a fist in front of her.

  "McClain...." She didn't know where to start.

  A slightly bitter smile kicked up the corner of his lips. "Exactly."

  "You wouldn't have minded two days ago," she told him. "In fact, the shoe was on the oth
er foot then."

  Faint shadows swept through his eyes. "Two days ago I was heading north and we were never going to see each other again."

  "In two days we might have Sage back and you'll be heading north again," she countered.

  "It's not the same."

  Mia pushed away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. Bloody men—running hot and cold. "Oh? What changed?"

  McClain's face twisted in that stubborn scowl she was beginning to recognize. "It doesn't matter, Mia. This is not happening, not now. Maybe in a few days.... Come and talk to me then. Maybe you wouldn't regret it, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't. I hate the idea of taking advantage of your grief, regardless of whether you think I would be or not. I like you," he said bluntly. "A lot. And you're going through a bad time right now.

  "If you want a shoulder to cry on, then I'm here. If you want a hug, all you have to do is ask. But I'm not taking things any damned further until I know you're in the right frame of mind."

  Mia stared at him wordlessly.

  He held out his hand to her. "Let's get back to the others. I want to check that shoulder out. You took a nasty hit.”

  She barely felt it. Maybe only peripherally, though she knew tomorrow would be a bitch. "I'm okay."

  "Just let me fuss," he told her. "It makes me feel better."

  Fine. Mia settled with a huff. Exhaustion was starting to ride her shoulders. "I didn't realize you were such an old woman."

  "It drove my sister crazy."

  "I can empathize."

  McClain smiled. It faded suddenly, as though he'd thought of something else. "You also need sleep. Tomorrow we're going after your sister and we need all the advantages we can get, because I don't think Thwaites and his men will be coming with us."

  The words were like a shock of icy water to the face. "What?"

  "Some of the men are wounded, Mia. Others... well they've got loved ones to look after now."

  And they'd want to take their girls and the young boys home. She completely understood, even as her heart ached. How were they going to get Sage and the other girls back now?