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  He chuckled. “Seriously? Eyelashes on a van?”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh.” He huffed out a breath, shaking his blond head. “Like lipstick on a pig.”

  Smiling to himself, he walked over to the garage door, where a wireless keypad was mounted on the frame. He flipped up the cover and pressed in a series of numbers. A once-familiar tone sounded with each number he pressed. I gawked as the third garage door rolled up.

  Man, I miss garage door openers.

  The young man walked into the garage and emerged a minute later pushing a hand truck weighed down with cases of bottled water. The wheels rattled and the boxes jumped as he guided the hand truck over the uneven cobblestone driveway. He stopped next to Daisy’s sliding door, then began to heave the cases of water into the van.

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am. I got this.”

  “Come on,” I protested with a smile. “I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.” I had to be younger than him by at least a couple of years.

  He paused in his exertions. “You’re Mr. Allsop’s guest. That makes you a ma’am in my book.”

  Mr. Allsop was a stickler for good manners. If he’d chastise his own son’s behavior, who knew what he’d do to an employee who breached his standards of decorum. I liked the blond guy; he struck me as much more easygoing than the rest of the security team. I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble.

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “Ma’am it is.”

  He finished loading the cases of water, returned the hand truck to the garage, and climbed into the passenger seat. I turned the key and the engine started. It ran rough for a few seconds—that happened every now and again—then it smoothed out, and I threw the van into reverse.

  “We can take one of the SUVs if you like,” the young man suggested. “I don’t mind switching the boxes to another vehicle.”

  “No need,” I said. “Daisy always gets me where I want to go.”

  “Daisy,” he repeated with a grin.

  “You going to make fun of me for naming my van after a flower?” I demanded.

  “Nope. I like it. I had a horse named Daisy when I was a kid.”

  “You’re a farm boy?” I asked, squinting against the bright light. That would explain the ease with which he slung the heavy cases of water into the van. Working a farm—tossing bales of hay around, or whatever else they did—had to develop some serious muscles.

  “Born and bred.”

  Up ahead, the heated surface of the road shimmered. I flipped down the visor and slipped on my sunglasses. “Did you work for Allsop security before the pandemic?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I came across Mr. Allsop a few weeks ago near Walla Walla. When the flu struck I was still working the family farm. After my parents passed...” He paused, as if caught short by emotion.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  “Thanks.” He inclined his head. “After I lost my folks, I came down with the flu, but I recovered.” Glancing sideways, I caught him staring into the distance, his brows drawn down. I held my tongue, waiting for him to speak again. “My mom and dad were good people,” he said slowly. “I don’t know why the Almighty saw fit to take them and spare me.”

  “I think we’ve all asked ourselves that,” I said. “My mom and dad were the best.”

  “Mine, too,” he said. “You have any brothers or sisters?”

  “One brother. The flu took him. How about you? Did you have any siblings?” I asked.

  Pain creased his features. He turned away, his face flushing. I got it. Sometimes, out of the blue, memories of loss ambushed you. The only thing you could do then was to wait for the pain to retreat. Nothing I could say would comfort the man. I touched his arm, and we lapsed into silence.

  As we approached the outskirts of the city, he leaned forward, scanning our surroundings. His gun was within reach, tucked into the same type of shoulder holster that Kyle wore. Kyle hadn’t wanted me to go into Boise today to make deliveries, but Mr. Allsop assured him that I was unlikely to run into trouble from the Nampa Boys. He had patrols crisscrossing the city, and he offered to send an armed guard with me.

  “Where to first?” he asked.

  I sighed. “The Nampa Boys took our registry when they attacked the Haven, so I don’t have a list of addresses for all the people we serve. I’ll have to rely on my memory, at least until I can meet up with other scavengers. We’ll head to the west side of town and start there.”

  “What exactly does the Haven do?” he asked.

  “We take care of survivors. Bring them food and water, whatever they need. Give them a place to go for medical treatment,” I said. “I’m a scavenger. I go through houses and businesses looking for food and medicine. Sara Russo is our doctor. She runs the place. The Nampa Boys took her and Rocco; he was a nurse.”

  “They spared people with valuable skills,” he observed.

  I frowned. Technically, he was right. Not many doctors or nurses survived the flu. Sara and Rocco possessed vital skills, but the notion that anybody would consider one person inherently more valuable than another rubbed me the wrong way.

  “They killed good people,” I said.

  He turned toward me, his expression serious. “I’m sure they did. Didn’t mean nothing disrespectful by my comment.”

  “I know you didn’t. It’s just...” I shook my head. “They all mattered, and they’re gone. And if Kyle and your security team can’t rescue Sara and Rocco, they’ll be gone, too.”

  On his lap, his hands clenched into fists, then relaxed. He cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t make sense to kill your friends. I got a feeling they’re still alive. Keep your hopes up.”

  “Thank you,” I said, touched by his genuine sympathy. It was reassuring to see that Mr. Allsop’s law and order crusade attracted nice guys.

  “Where did you meet your boyfriend?” Was he trying to change the subject, get my mind off Sara and Rocco?

  “I met Kyle when I was seven years old. His family moved into our neighborhood, and my brother invited him over to play video games. They were best friends ever since.”

  “No shit?” He blew out a low whistle. “I don’t know anybody from before the flu. You’re lucky to still have each other.”

  “Yeah, we are.” I brushed my fingers over my lips, remembering our kiss, the sudden surge of pleasure that tap-danced through my body when our mouths touched. Sometimes a first kiss throws cold water on a romance. Not with Kyle. The reality was better than any fantasy, and I’d fantasized about kissing him for years. And from his sudden inhalation of breath and shocked expression, he’d felt it, too.

  “I think you missed your exit.” A voice interrupted my reverie.

  Crap. I reeled in my thoughts and took the next exit, navigating toward western Boise. For the next couple of hours, we dropped food and water off to a half dozen survivors. I told everybody about the Nampa Boys’ attack on the Haven and assured them that Allsop security was protecting the city from further incursions.

  “One last stop before we head back,” I said when we climbed into Daisy. I drove to a familiar dead-end street and parked in the driveway of Cressida’s Cottage. The front door flew open, and Ever skipped down the front walk, Fitzwilliam in her arms. Mrs. B. appeared in the doorway, a huge, welcoming smile on her face.

  We jumped out of the van. Ever paused when she saw the stranger at my side.

  “Hey, kiddo. Who’s your friend?” he asked, dropping down on his haunches, so he was eye to eye with the cat.

  “His name is Fitzwilliam, and I just taught him how to fetch a paper airplane.”

  “You did?” He offered the girl an easy smile. “That’s one smart cat you got there.”

  “Uh-huh,” she agreed. She looked him up and down. “My name is Ever. What’s yours?”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ever. My name is Finn, Finn Rasmussen.”

  TWELVE

  Kyle

  “It’s not a big deal.” I stood in t
he doorway to the bathroom, tucking the gray Allsop security T-shirt into my jeans.

  From her perch on the end of the bed, Sunny tilted her head and pulled a face, her expression skeptical. Yeah. In her mind, it clearly was a big deal.

  “You don’t think wearing their uniform might look like some kind of statement?” she asked. “Like you’re all in?”

  No danger of that. I had an agenda. Rescue Sara and Rocco. Help Elliot Allsop neutralize the Nampa Boys and stabilize Boise. Get the Haven up and running again. Then head back to Valhalla with Sunny in tow, leaving the Allsops in my rearview mirror. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of days, should it?

  Who was I kidding? That could take freaking forever.

  If we found Sara and Rocco and brought them home, that might be enough to convince Sunny that Boise was in good hands. That she wouldn’t be abandoning her friends if she came back to Valhalla with me. It had to be enough because I couldn’t leave Sunny behind.

  And that’s all it took for my mind to snap back to our kiss. I’m no player, but I’ve kissed plenty of women. Nine times out of ten, it’s good. Great even. Occasionally, it’s a dud. You can’t fake chemistry, and when your body says a big nope, your libido—and everything else—shrivels. On rare occasions, a first kiss is mind-meltingly spectacular, sending sparks raging throughout your body.

  Who would’ve thought a simple kiss from my best friend’s kid sister would almost knock me sideways? I’ve lived by a code: your buddy’s sister was off-limits. If Jake were alive, I’d never risk our friendship by making a move on Sunny. But Jake wasn’t alive, and Sunny had grown into the most delectable woman I’d ever met.

  “Um… earth to Kyle.”

  Shit.

  “Mr. Allsop asked me to wear the tee, in case we come across any survivors,” I explained. “He said they need to start associating the gray T-shirt with helpers, with people they can trust.”

  “Right,” she drawled.

  “You don’t trust him?” I asked. “Brody can be a tool, but has Mr. Allsop said or done anything suspicious?”

  “If you can get past the idea of the best and brightest running the world, you mean?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel quite right, but I can’t put my finger on it. He’s saying the right things about protecting Boise from the Nampa Boys. About restoring security and stability. About finding Sara and Rocco and saving the Haven. And I guess a man with good intentions, a man who has all the resources to keep the peace, that could be a good thing.”

  “It could be a very good thing,” I said. “I want Boise to be a safe place, but don’t worry. I’m not swearing allegiance to the Allsops. As soon as possible, I’m going home to Valhalla, and you know I want you to come with me.”

  She nodded. She knew I wanted her to stick with me. Wasn’t the same thing as agreeing to, was it? If the Allsops restored order in Boise, she might feel compelled to stay with her friends. My cheeks puffed when I blew out a slow breath. Sunny would decide to stay with me. She had to.

  “You’ll be careful?” she asked. “If you guys run into the Nampa Boys?”

  “We’re going out loaded for bear, and the SUVs are armored,” I said. “I just hope to God we find some sign of Sara and Rocco.”

  “Amen to that,” Sunny said. “And you’ll keep your eyes open, won’t you? Just in case something more is going on than we can see?”

  “Of course.”

  “And while you’re gone, I’ll spend the afternoon dropping off supplies,” she said.

  “Still wish you’d wait and go with me tomorrow.”

  “Mr. Allsop is sending an armed guard with me, remember?”

  I remembered. I also remembered how often things went to shit when I got separated from my friends. How we thought we’d lost Kenzie. And Sahdev. Nowadays, every goodbye could be the last one.

  Sunny hopped to her feet and walked over to me. “We’ll both be careful, and I’ll see you tonight.”

  Hugging a friend was totally normal under the circumstances, right? I slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Jeez, it felt like one of those weird side hugs you saw on reality TV shows featuring super-conservative religious families. I shifted and wrapped both arms around Sunny, hauling her against my chest. She slid her arms around my waist, returning the hug. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I inhaled, remembering how perfectly those enticing mounds had filled my hands, how her ass had pressed against my cock. I shuddered and forced my arms to release her. We disentangled and stepped apart.

  “See you at dinner.” I dropped an awkward kiss on her forehead and immediately regretted it. What was I, her favorite uncle? I faced her, my arms hanging awkwardly at my side.

  Sunny’s mouth tipped up at the corners in a knowing smile. She laid her palms on my chest, rose on her tiptoes, and placed a quick kiss on my lips. “See ya.”

  I stood stock-still as she whirled and walked out of the room. My buddies would howl if they could see me now, flustered by a girl I’ve known most of my life.

  “Smooth, Chamberlain,” I muttered. “Real smooth.” Shaking my head, I shrugged on my shoulder holster, then strode to the garage.

  Brody stood with a cluster of Allsop security men. He clapped me on the shoulder with a friendly grin when I approached. “You all set, brother?”

  I patted my Glock. “I’m good to go.”

  “All right. You and I will ride with Jonesy. We’ll drive through town, show ourselves, so the good citizens of Boise can see that we’re on the job. If the Nampa Boys think the city is wide open and defenseless, they’ll learn otherwise.”

  “All right,” I said, climbing into the back of an SUV. “How about searching for Sara and Rocco?”

  “If we run into any Nampa Boys, we’ll try to take one alive to interrogate. If not, we’ll head west into their territory and scout around.”

  Scout around? Kind of a vague plan, wasn’t it? I frowned.

  “We have it well in hand, Mr. Chamberlain.” Jonesy spoke from the driver’s seat. I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. Deadly serious. No nonsense. He exuded an aura of lethal competence that reminded me of Ripper.

  Three black SUVs pulled out of the garage and headed toward downtown Boise. We cruised up and down the streets. Occasionally, the two-way radio Brody carried crackled as men reported in.

  “Do you mind if we drive past Haven headquarters?” I asked.

  They’d promised to bury the bodies, and I wanted to see if they’d honored their commitments.

  “Mr. Allsop?” Jonesy inquired.

  “Do it,” Brody said.

  Jonesy swung the SUV around, and our caravan headed toward the hospital. We pulled into the emergency entrance, pausing in front of the double doors leading into the Haven headquarters. The bodies were gone, the broken glass swept up, and the puddle of blood scrubbed clean. Only the jagged glass along the window frames gave evidence of yesterday’s attack.

  I turned to Brody. “You guys took care of their bodies.”

  “Of course, we did. The Allsops keep their word. We buried your people and cleaned up the mess.”

  “Thanks, Brody,” I said. “Sunny will be grateful.”

  I winced. I’d provided the perfect opening for one of Brody’s crude comments. Yeah, just how grateful will Sunny be? Nudge, nudge. Instead of seizing the opportunity, Brody bumped his shoulder against mine. “Come on, man. It’s only common decency to give your friends a proper burial.”

  Brody Allsop had stepped up. Maybe I’d underestimated the man.

  We drove away from the headquarters and continued north. Turning a corner, we came upon a disheveled elderly man climbing out of a busted-up storefront. He stilled when he saw us, gripping a bottle of mouthwash in both hands.

  “Pull over,” Brody ordered. When Jonesy obeyed, the other SUVs followed suit.

  Brody jumped out of the SUV, and I trailed closely behind him. The old man blinked and stumbled backward. Arms outstretched, palms up, Brody slowly ap
proached the man.

  “Sir, we mean no harm,” Brody said in a gentle voice. “We’re friends.”

  The man clutched the mouthwash as if he thought we’d steal it from him. His hands trembled, his knees wobbled, and he leaned against the battered storefront. His gaze darted from Brody to me. I smiled, trying to look nonthreatening.

  “Do you need help?” Brody asked. “Food or water? Medical care?”

  The man licked his lips. “I’m doing fine. Don’t mean no harm. I’ll just be on my way.”

  Brody pointed at the man behind the wheel of the second SUV, who jumped from the vehicle and joined us on the sidewalk. “Clint, this gentleman needs a ride home. Give him a case of water and a box of rations. Write down his address so our people can check in on him later.”

  “Yes, sir.” Clint walked up to the elderly man and took his arm. “Come with me, sir. We’ll see you safely home.”

  “Who are you people?” the man asked.

  “Allsop security,” Clint said, leading the man to the second SUV. “We’re here to help.”

  I stared at Brody. I never would have guessed that Brody Allsop would be a force for good in the world, but then I’d totally misjudged Ripper when I first met him, too. If an outlaw biker could turn out to be a stand-up guy—a hero—maybe there was hope for a spoiled rich kid like Brody. Sometimes disaster changes people for the better.

  “Radio Jonesy when you’re finished so we can meet up,” Brody called. He turned to me. “I’m not giving up on finding your friends today. Let’s go.”

  We climbed into the SUV and pulled away from the curb, recommencing our journey through the city.

  Fifteen minutes later, Brody’s radio squawked.

  “Yes?”

  “We dropped off the old man at his house,” Clint said. “Then we spotted a Nampa Boy outside of a pawn shop, and we gave chase.”

  “And?” Brody barked.

  “We got him.”

  Brody whooped and shot me a thumbs-up. “Where are you?”

  “A block off Main Street.” Clint relayed the address.

  “Hold him. We’ll come to you.” Brody turned to me. “And now we’ll get some answers about your friends.”