Scorch Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 1) Page 9

  “I had it under control!”

  Tears burned Elizabeth’s eyes. Her body trembled. She reached into her pocket and rubbed the knife—so hum, so hum, so hum.

  It wasn’t working. She’d just killed two men, and JT was mad at her—and it wasn’t fair!

  “Screw you!” She yelled, turning on him. “You did not have it under control! You would have died. And I can’t lose you!” He took his eyes off the road to glare at her, but she wasn’t done. “If we die, then the vaccine is dead. Get your head out of your ass. This is bigger than you or me or any precious male ego you’re nursing over there.”

  She sat back into her seat and burst into tears, covering her face. She turned toward the window and cried, letting go of the terror and trauma of the confrontation with the pirates. She eventually wound down into hiccupping silence.

  JT reached over and patted her thigh. Squeezed it. She loved how big and warm his hand was, a lifeline in this crazy world. His voice softened to a gentle rumble. “We’re okay now, E. I’m sorry—I get mad when I’m scared, and it freaked me out to see you get out of the truck. But you did good. Really good.”

  “I can help. I can handle myself. Don’t underestimate me.” Elizabeth took his hand, cradling it against her wet cheek, and holding it tight.

  “You keep surprising me,” JT said. “But next time, stay in the truck.”

  “No promises.” She’d done what she had to do. She and JT were still alive, they were on the way to DC, and the cells were going to make it.

  Elizabeth would do whatever it took to get them there.

  Chapter Eleven

  JT

  JT knew it was a waste of gas to drive so fast, but with the adrenaline pumping, he needed to get away from that scene.

  Elizabeth had blown away that biker, her face pale and hard as chalk, ponytail flying from the force of the shotgun blast. She’d shot two men. Who was this woman? Did Elizabeth know what she’d done? Whatever he’d said, he knew she’d probably saved his life.

  This little blonde had a spine, and she didn’t take shit from him or anybody.

  Shadows were stark under her eyes, and there was blood spattered on her shirt and her arms. There was even a smear on her forehead where she must have rubbed it. She gripped his hand, mashing it against her trembling cheek. He felt her lips on his palm.

  His arm was at an awkward angle but he didn’t mind one bit. He just wished there was time to pull her in for a real kiss, maybe more. The amped-up adrenaline had to go somewhere. JT checked his rearview mirror. Nothing but empty road. Ahead of them, the center of Roverton was coming up fast. He eased off the accelerator.

  “I need to try my parents again if we can find a phone.” She pulled up her T-shirt with her free hand to wipe at her eyes, exposing a slender ivory waist. God, he wanted to see more of that silky skin. “I really need to talk to them.” Elizabeth’s voice was wobbly, and JT’s heart squeezed at her tone.

  They rolled down the deserted main street, and JT pulled into a gas station on the corner. The store was shuttered, the pumps locked down with zip ties. “Stay in the truck,” popped out of his mouth and he winced, expecting her to dress him down again, but she just nodded and released his hand.

  “I see a pay phone.” She pointed. There was one across the street.

  JT was hopped up with adrenaline, his muscles jumpy and nerves frayed. “I want to make sure we’re clear. And I have to find a way to get the gas out of the storage tank underground, if there even is any in there. Please just wait a few more minutes.” Letting her out where she was exposed was more than he could deal with right now.

  He cut the zip tie clamping down one of the pumps with his Buck knife, but the display refused to light up. The power must be shut off, so the pumps weren’t working.

  “Maybe I could siphon some from the main tank, if we can find a hose,” JT said. A revolting thought, but possible. He gazed at the huge, heavy iron cover over the station’s main underground storage tank. That was going to be a beast to get off.

  “I see some cardboard over there in the dumpsters,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going to fix my window.”

  JT glanced at where she pointed. It was close, he could handle her going that far—just not crossing the street without him.

  “Bring the shotgun with you,” JT commanded, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. Damn. Mr. Gruff was back.

  Elizabeth got out, holding the shotgun, and Pinocchio followed her. The dog nosed around, peeing on every corner of the lot as Elizabeth retrieved a cardboard box from a pile beside the store.

  “Hey! There’s a hose back here!” she called.

  “Bring it. I’m going to try to get this cover off.”

  JT went to the back of the Rover and removed his toolbox as Elizabeth hauled a looped bundle of black rubber hose across the parking lot.

  The screws on the iron cover were hex bolts. He found a ratchet wrench and went to work on them as Elizabeth cut a piece of cardboard to the size of her window with that pearl-handled knife of hers. “Got any duct tape?”

  He pointed to the toolbox. “Never without it. Man’s best friend.”

  Elizabeth laughed, her face still tear-streaked. The sound lifted some of the weight squeezing JT’s heart. She fit the cardboard to the window, and used the duct tape to keep it in place as he finished loosening the last of the hex bolts.

  “Gonna need your help to get this off. It’s heavy.” JT began pulling the long bolts out of the metal cover. “Can you grab the tire iron? It’s under the cover in back of the Rover.”

  JT pried the heavy cover up with the tire iron and, with both of them lifting and pushing, they were able to slide the slab of heavy steel to the side. A waft of gassy smell came up from the depths. There was still another tank to breach, this one with a screw top, down a short set of metal rungs sunk in the concrete wall. “Can you keep watch with the shotgun while I go down and get that lid off and the siphoning going? Or would you rather do that, and I’ll guard?”

  “I’ll keep watch,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to lift that,” she gestured toward the lid. She raised her chin. “I can suck on the hose though, if you want.”

  Whoever did it was going to get gasoline in their mouth. Her offer was brave—Elizabeth was brave. The heaviness on JT’s heart lifted more. He wasn’t alone in all of this. She was a worthy partner. “No. I’ll do it.”

  Elizabeth made a face. “It’s gonna be gross. Thank you.”

  JT stood and scanned the deserted street again, fear spiraling over him as he remembered where they were—right out in the open, on a street corner, stealing gas, and he was going to disappear down into that tunnel and leave her unprotected.

  He was spooked by the encounter with the bikers.

  But mostly spooked by how terrified he was when she was vulnerable.

  “We have to help each other, JT. You can’t do everything yourself.” Elizabeth’s eyes were the color of Idaho sky in summer. He nodded, staring at her mouth, afire with a need to crush her against him, possess her, and consume her. The urge was so strong that he had to back up a few steps to stop himself.

  She is not yours to keep safe, or to kiss. Just a girl on a mission to somewhere else, a chance companion on the road trip from hell. But at least she’s a quick study with a shotgun.

  JT opened the Rover’s gas cap and lined up all the storage containers. “Once the flow is going, we can’t shut it off, which is a fire hazard, needless to say. So, let’s fill all these containers. I’ll climb out as soon as I can.” He used his knife to cut the hose shorter, then dropped it down into the pit. He touched his Glock for reassurance and scanned around the empty street one more time.

  Elizabeth met his eyes, holding the shotgun loose in her arms. “Do what you’ve got to do, and trust me to watch your back.”

  He wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he swung a leg into the shaft, took hold of the metal ladder, and descended.

  The fumes were
strong, making him light-headed. JT inspected the lid on the metal tank. It was a simple clamp-on cap over a rubber nipple with a slit opening, creating a valve designed to have a fuel truck’s line attached. “All clear up there?” he called up to her, popping the top.

  “Still clear.” Her blonde ponytail blew in the wind, twisting golden against the sky, and the Remington looked at home in her arms. His scientist was a badass.

  JT fed one end of the hose into the big metal tank, wiggling until he heard a splash. Then he took the other end of the hose, put it in his mouth, and sucked.

  The gas surged up the hose into his mouth. He spat and coughed as the harsh chemical burned his mouth. The gas retreated.

  He sucked twice more before gas finally continued to flow out of the hose.

  He climbed the metal ladder holding the trickling hose. “No matches, okay?” He joked feebly, dizzy from the fumes and nauseous from the foul taste in his mouth. He hurried to the truck’s gas opening, inserted the hose, and bent over, gagging.

  Elizabeth ran to the truck and brought him a water jug. “Rinse that poison out.”

  They filled the tank and the rest of the containers before yanking the hose out and stopping the flow, then heaving the metal cover back into place.

  “My turn to stand guard while you try your phone calls,” JT said. “There’s change in the glove compartment.” Elizabeth scooped up some quarters and crossed the street to the phones, bringing the shotgun with her. He followed, the dizziness and nausea slowly subsiding.

  He heard the busy signal after she tried her call, and she leaned her head on the metal booth, biting down on her lip. JT looked away from her. He couldn’t watch, not without grabbing her and kissing her until she understood what she was doing to him.

  A seismic shift had occurred when he saw Elizabeth outside his truck, exposed and in danger, coming to his aid. It wasn’t just fear that he’d experienced. It was something else.

  He wasn’t a stranger to love, but that had been so long ago. A different man had loved his high school sweetheart, and a part of him had died with her—but apparently, he wasn’t dead yet.

  Elizabeth pulled herself together. “Just a busy signal,” she said, swiping at her eyes. JT nodded. “There’s a dial tone, so I’ll keep watch while you call your family.” She stepped up next to him, her face blotchy but hands firm as she held the Remington, keeping it at her hips, finger on the trigger.

  His mother picked up on the second ring. “Mama.”

  “Jacob Teodoro. Oh, thank God.”

  “How is everyone?”

  He heard tears in her voice. “Nando, Jacob. He is . . . “ Mama couldn’t finish the sentence. He heard the phone switching hands and then his brother Dolf’s deep voice.

  “What’s happening?” JT’s voice came out too loud, sharp with alarm.

  “Nando’s dying.”

  JT’s throat closed. He bent over with the pain, placing his hands on the edge of the pay phone to steady himself.

  “When are you getting here?”

  JT coughed just to get the words out. “I’m on my way. Hopefully I’ll be there in three days.”

  “You may be too late.” He’d never heard defeat in Dolf’s voice before.

  “How is that possible?” JT was light-headed again, and clung to the metal phone structure for support.

  “I don’t know. Avital says that from what she’s seeing at the hospital, the young and strong are going first. Hurry. Maybe Nando will rally with you here.”

  “I’m doing my best. I’ll be there soon. Love you, bro.” They ended every phone call the same way. Italians never shied away from expressing love with their family, and even Dolf, the cold one, replied in the same vein.

  “Love you, too, man.”

  Would he ever get to say “I love you” to Nando again? JT’s hands shook and he gripped the edge of the phone booth harder, willing his body into submission. He was doing the best he could to get there. That had to be enough.

  He glanced over at Elizabeth. She scanned the street, watching for danger.

  How was he going to let her go on to DC without him? He couldn’t stand the thought of her outside his truck, let alone on the road unprotected. Memories of their brief kiss and the feel of her supple body in his arms ambushed him.

  He tore his gaze off Elizabeth and returned his attention to the phone, dialing Dante’s number.

  When his little brother picked up, the younger man’s voice centered JT. This was blood, family. Here was his priority.

  “Dante, tell me you’re packing to come to the Haven.”

  “You know it, brother.” Relief washed over JT, soothing the ragged edge that the fight with the bikers and news about Nando had left exposed.

  “So you know about . . . “ JT couldn’t say his brother’s name.

  “Yeah.” Dante’s one word answer was all the two men needed to communicate.

  “What about Cash?”

  “Called that idiot this morning and guess what? He was sleeping.” Only Cosimo Luciano would sleep through the apocalypse. “But he agreed to come too. It might be easier for him, coming from Colorado.”

  JT smacked the side of the pay phone box in celebration. “That’s good to hear, bro. Tell me what you know about what’s happening in the world. We haven’t been able to get any news.” Dante’s internet fetish had its uses.

  “The government’s shut down all air travel and declared an international state of emergency. We’ve closed our borders, and the quarantine zone is extended to Montana, Wyoming and Utah. California’s going to be next. All flights are grounded, but I guess you already know that. Did you get that satellite linkup working at the Haven that we talked about?” Dante asked.

  Yeah, his brother was consistent—D had his World of Warcraft guild to keep up with, even when a plague was decimating the nation. As much as JT teased his brother, Dante’s skills had helped build the app that paid for the Haven.

  While all the brothers loved each other, JT and Dante shared a connection formed as adults, more than just the ties of childhood. Socially awkward Dante was something of a conspiracy theorist in his own right and was the only member of the family who had visited the Haven, who understood and supported its true purpose.

  “The internet was working when I left.”

  “There are a lot of rumors running around. There are skinhead groups forming militias, and some people are claiming that the virus is a bioterror attack, that the government has the cure but won’t give it up. That’s what I think is going on.” Dante was running true to form. “I hear a cure is available but it’s not being distributed.”

  “No, that can’t be right. I know one of the docs working on the vaccine. She’s trying to get the cure to the CDC. The virus caught everyone off guard, that’s all.”

  Dante snorted. “That doesn’t just happen in this day and age.”

  “Well anyway, who cares how it got started at this point. Shit’s real. You and Cash go armed when you get on the road.”

  Elizabeth touched JT’s arm and he managed not to jump, just glanced back at her.

  “Are you talking to your brother in LA?”

  He covered the mouthpiece. “Yeah, why?”

  “Is he coming to the Haven?” JT nodded. Did Elizabeth want to come to the Haven too? His heart surged at the idea—damn, he wanted her to. But she had her mission, her parents . . .

  “My best friend, Melody, is in LA. Would it be possible . . . “ Her voice faded and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, again.

  “What?” JT raised his brows, encouraging her.

  “Could your brother bring Melody to the Haven? I know you’d be able to keep her safe.” Elizabeth said. “Please. It would mean so much to me to know my best friend was in a good place.”

  The last thing JT needed was a stranger loose on his land. What did he know about Melody? A woman like Elizabeth coming to the Haven was a different thing: she pitched in, could eat cold chili from a can, had science
skills, knew how and when to shoot, and was incredibly brave.

  “She’s a great person, a hard worker. Please.” The way Elizabeth looked at him, pink mouth puckered as she bit her lip, sky-blue eyes focused on his—it just wasn’t fair.

  He turned away abruptly and spoke into the handset. “Dante, I need you to pick someone up. A friend of Elizabeth’s.”

  “She’s in Malibu,” Elizabeth chimed in.

  “This woman’s practically on your way.” JT was crazy, risking his brother’s life for Elizabeth’s friend, but now it was a done deal if Dante agreed.

  Elizabeth rattled off Melody’s phone number and address. She returned her attention to the street, walking straighter, head held higher, ponytail bouncing with each step. She must really love this friend. A pleasant buzz at making her happy warmed him.

  “I’m almost ready to roll out.” Dante had agreed to pick up Melody. “I’m gonna have to call Cash back about carrying weapons.” Dante collected guns, the prettier and more tricked out the better, but Cash didn’t like guns. He was a compound bow and knife kind of guy, but handy with them—and a black belt in some kind of martial arts. He did so many sports JT couldn’t keep up with them all.

  “This isn’t a video game, brother. Shooting a human isn’t fun.” But JT was still shocked at how easy it had been to do when the bikers threatened his and Elizabeth’s lives.

  The phone beeped, asking for more quarters. He fed in a couple more. “Use your radio if the phones go out to keep in touch.” He told his brother the frequency he was using. “My friend Roan is keeping an eye on the Haven. I’ll tell him to expect you in case you guys get there ahead of me.”

  “Will do, JT. See you soon.”

  “Love ya, bro.” JT hung up and stepped away from the phone. “Call Melody. Tell her my brother Dante will pick her up. She better be ready to rough it a bit.”

  “Thank you again.” Elizabeth reached out as if to hug him, but JT couldn’t handle that. He moved away, scanning the street.