Reese offered a knowing smile. “Yes, you do. Or rather, you know what you’re hoping for. That after I open my legs to you, I’ll open my mouth. I’ll tell you all my secrets, and then you can go running back to Connor so he can say ‘good job’ and pat you on the back.”
Rylan’s jaw tensed.
Her laughter just pissed him off further. “We both know that’s your agenda.”
“I’ve had the same agenda since the moment I met you.” He smirked. “Me, you, naked.”
“Yes, but this time your end goal is more than just a couple of orgasms.” She dropped her hand to her side and stepped back. “And for the sake of argument—even if you weren’t acting as Con’s spy? I still wouldn’t spread my legs for you. You’re trouble, Rylan.”
He regained his composure, flashing a wicked smile. “Trouble’s fun.”
“Trouble gets you killed.”
Before he could blink, her hand snapped out and covered his groin.
“When I’m around, honey? This stays in your pants. I don’t want it.” She gave him a teasing squeeze and he almost came in her hand. “I don’t need it.”
“Reese—”
“Keep me updated on my people’s progress,” she cut in, her voice a cheerful chirp. “I expect daily reports, gorgeous.”
She squeezed his cock hard enough to make him moan, then released him so abruptly that his dick wept from the loss.
With a soft laugh, she sauntered off in Sloan’s direction, leaving Rylan cursing after her in frustration.
7
“Don’t block with your dominant hand. You want to be ready with that right cross even as you’re deflecting my attack,” Lennox explained to the teenage boy he was sparring with.
After four days of training, Rylan and Pike had decided to split the morning crowd into two groups: one was honing target shooting skills with Rylan, the other learning basic fighting moves under Pike’s tutelage. Lennox had been recruited to help out. He’d been paired with Randy, a sixteen-year-old who hadn’t known not to tuck his thumb into his fist until Lennox showed him the harmful error of his ways.
“But you came at me from the right,” Randy protested. “My first instinct is to use my right hand to block.”
“Then you need to develop some new instincts.” Lennox grinned and came at him with his fist again.
This time Randy used his left forearm to block, but he wasn’t fast enough. Lennox’s fist connected with the kid’s solar plexus, sending him sprawling ass-first on the pavement.
“Can’t we do this on the grass?” Randy complained. He rubbed his ass as he awkwardly rose to his feet. “The field behind the high school would give me a nice, soft place to land every time you lay me down.”
Lennox snickered. “Helpful tip: If you find yourself surrounded by bandits or Enforcers, chances are, it won’t be in a fluffy meadow. It’ll be on a supply run or on the road. So get used to cracking your head against the pavement, kid.”
Grunts, heavy breathing, and the sounds of fists slamming into flesh echoed all around them. Pike and Beckett were working with their own teenage novices; the others had been paired off to practice the blocking techniques Pike and Lennox had demonstrated at the start of the lesson. Jamie had joined the fold too, sparring with Kade about fifty yards away. She was laughing her sexy ass off as she managed to sweep Kade’s legs out from under him for the tenth time in a row.
Connor was right—Kade definitely needed work if a tiny thing like Jamie could get the best of him.
Randy followed Lennox’s gaze, then snorted. “I guess I don’t feel so bad anymore,” the teenager remarked. “That guy can’t block for shit either.”
“Kade’s a city boy. Still has a lot to learn.”
“What’d he do in the city?”
“I’m not sure. Never asked him, if I’m being honest. But I assume he was assigned a job like all the other citizens.” Though Lennox wasn’t sure what kind of job Kade would’ve been suited for. The guy didn’t have Xander’s technological prowess, so the tech sector was out. Didn’t seem to have any farming or trade skills, so that was out too. A teacher, maybe? Something in administration?
“He’s lucky Connor Mackenzie took him in. Citizens are weak. They can’t survive out here on their own.”
The observation summoned a wry smile. Spoken by a kid who didn’t know the difference between an uppercut and a jab.
“Come on, let’s take a water break,” Lennox suggested.
They grabbed two water bottles from the large cooler near the curb. One of Lennox’s favorite things about Foxworth? Ice-cold water. Along with protection and immunity, Reese’s hush-hush deals with West City’s officials also involved unrestricted electricity from the city’s power grid. The Enforcers who visited Foxworth required certain comforts, after all, which meant the food and water in town was refrigerated.
As Lennox welcomed the icy stream that slid down his throat, Randy spoke up again. “Hey, I’ve always wondered—why does Connor go by his full name? Whenever someone talks about him, they say Connor Mackenzie.”
“Not so much anymore, actually. But there used to be another Connor in the area, so the last name made it easier to figure out which Connor you were referring to.” Lennox remembered the other Connor being a scary mountain man, but the guy had left the area a couple of years ago.
“I don’t know my last name,” Randy admitted.
“Not everyone does.” Lennox only knew his because his parents were born before the war, during a time when surnames still mattered.
Anyone born postwar didn’t have much use for surnames. And while the citizens of West City were given ID badges, most outlaws didn’t have proper identification. Some possessed birth records, but those were usually just papers handwritten by their parents, listing the child’s name and date of birth.
“Do you know yours?” Randy asked curiously.
Lennox nodded. “Murphy. My dad said it’s an Irish name.”
The kid donned a blank look. “Irish?”
“Yeah. Meaning it originated in Ireland.”
The explanation didn’t bring comprehension. Randy simply looked more confused, causing Lennox to narrow his eyes. “You don’t know geography? How the world used to be before the Colonies were formed?”
Randy shook his head.
“You serious? Reese doesn’t teach you guys that shit?” It surprised him, especially since there was a still-standing library about three miles from Foxworth, full of prewar texts that the younger residents could benefit from.
“Reese says the past doesn’t matter,” Randy explained. “The other adults think so too. They always tell us they’re preparing us for the future.”
Lennox supposed he understood that. Truthfully there wasn’t much to be gained from dwelling on the past. Knowledge, yes, but history and geography didn’t exactly aid in one’s survival. His and Jamie’s parents had thought it was important, though. At their old camp, all the kids had attended daily classes, where they learned not just the skills that were advantageous to outlaw life, but topics that helped them understand the world that existed before them.
“Hit me like you mean it, baby . . .”
Lennox turned his head toward Jamie’s mocking voice. He stifled a laugh when he glimpsed Kade’s frazzled expression. The former city boy wound his arm back and lunged for Jamie, but she was too spry for him. She feigned left, then jabbed her elbow in the center of his throat before dancing away.
“I fucking hate you,” Kade grumbled.
“No, you don’t. You love me. Everyone does.” Raising her hands in surrender, she marched up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “All right, I’m taking a break now. It’s been a pleasure kicking your ass.”
She sauntered off, leaving a gale of melodic laughter in her wake.
Randy’s eyes glazed over as he unabashedly ogl
ed Jamie’s tight ass, which swayed seductively beneath her black leggings. “Think she’d be into me?” the kid asked.
Lennox could barely contain his laughter. “How old are you again?”
“Sixteen.”
“Yeah . . . that might be too young for Jamie’s blood. She likes men with a little more experience in the saddle.”
Randy hesitated. “Is she your woman? The two of you showed up here together last time too.”
“More like a sister,” he said vaguely. “We’ve known each other forever.”
“But you’ve, uh, had sex, right?”
“Nope.” Though God knew he’d had sex with her in his mind a thousand times already.
But that needed to end, damn it. His dirty imagination had gotten him in trouble the other day, when he forcibly had to stop himself from mauling her in the town square. The memory of Jamie’s naked body sandwiched between Beckett and Travis had triggered a bout of lust he hadn’t been able to control. Jamie had seen it, and it had scared her. Even worse, it had put a strain on their friendship, making shit awkward between them.
He hadn’t liked that. At all.
Kade drifted over, mopping his sweaty face with the bottom of his shirt. He must have heard the tail end of their conversation, because he grumbled, “Your sister just gave me a beat-down. Who taught her to fight like that?”
“You’re looking at him.”
“Yeah?” Kade’s head tipped to the side. “Then chug the rest of your water and teach me some shit, because there’s no way I’m letting that teeny blond demon win another fight.”
Randy started to laugh, but the sound died midchortle, replaced by a choked noise.
Lennox followed the teenager’s gaze to see what had clammed him up. A petite girl with a long brown ponytail stood next to Pike, listening attentively to whatever instruction he was giving her. It was the same girl who’d been dominating the target practice, Lennox realized.
“She’s cute.” He offered a pointed look. “And age-appropriate.”
Randy’s cheeks took on a reddish hue. “Uh, yeah . . . she’s all right.”
Lennox and Kade exchanged amused glances.
“What’s her name?” Kade asked.
“Sara.” The flush deepened. “She and her dad moved here a few months ago. Sloan ran into them on the road and brought them back.” Randy awkwardly tilted his head to the left. “That’s her dad over there.”
Shit. Sara’s father was one big motherfucker. At least six-five, with a shaved head and hawklike brown eyes that monitored his daughter’s every movement.
“He’s kinda overprotective of her,” Randy mumbled.
Kinda seemed like a grave understatement. But at least it made sense now why Randy was ready to shit his pants every time he looked at Sara.
Lennox sighed. “You want to spend time with her, huh? But you’re afraid of her father.”
“Wouldn’t you be? He’s a giant. And he never lets her out of his sight.”
Lennox thought it over. “You want my advice? Forget him.”
The kid gaped at him. “Um . . . yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. If you want to get to know her, get to know her. Scary Dad over there ain’t gonna kill you just for talking to her.”
“He might.”
“Nah.” Kade grinned and backed up Lennox. “Just make sure to keep your pants zipped around her, and you’ll be fine.”
Lennox shrugged. “Besides, if he does kick your ass, who cares? Bruises fade. Broken bones heal. Life’s too short, kid. If you really like this chick, then you’ve gotta make a move. You might never get the opportunity again.”
Randy went quiet, mulling over the advice. Then he set his jaw in determination and raised his hand in the air. “Nice hit, Sara!” he called out.
She whirled around, her ponytail a brown blur. The girl she’d just knocked on her ass was clambering to her feet, but Sara’s surprised gaze was focused on Randy. “Oh. Um. Thanks,” she called back.
Lennox pressed his lips together to smother his amusement. Kade seemed to be doing the same. Sara’s dad, on the other hand, didn’t look at all pleased by the exchange. The man glowered at Randy, who simply waved politely.
“You’ve got balls, kid,” Kade murmured.
“Big brass balls,” Lennox agreed. He smacked Randy on the shoulder, unable to fight the pride in his chest. “Okay, time to get back to work. You can cheer me on while I kick Kade’s ass.”
As they walked back to the fighting area, Kade’s low, knowing voice met Lennox’s ears. “You should take your own advice.”
Randy kept walking, but Lennox stopped, warily turning toward the other man. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks.” Kade offered a wry smile. “You want her, Len.”
He decided to play dumb. “Who?”
“You know who.” Kade went quiet for a beat. “I’m not sure what’s holding you back, but whatever it is, I doubt it’s as bad as you think, man. Life’s too short, remember?”
Lennox gritted his teeth as the other man threw his own words back at him, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a sarcastic retort or a careless remark to toss back.
* * *
“A bunch of pussies, that’s what they are,” Rylan announced, his irritated voice echoing in the cavernous loft that Beckett and Travis shared.
Lennox had to grin at the disgust twisting the other man’s handsome features. It was rare to see Rylan drop his careless facade, but clearly the day’s training had gotten to him. Lennox didn’t blame him—there had been a shit ton of complaints floating through Foxworth these past four days.
Rylan turned the bone-handle knife in his hand a few times as he studied the wooden beam ten feet away. “One kid said he had a sore finger from pulling the trigger so many times. Can you fucking believe that?”
With a look of sheer disbelief, he gripped the handle so his thumb was pressed to its side, pulled his arm back, and lunged forward to hurl the knife.
The blade hit the beam with a ping but didn’t connect with the wood, instead clattering to the weathered hardwood floor.
“Miss!” Beckett crowed. “You’re up, Len.”
Lennox studied his target, a wooden post that extended from floor to ceiling and was about a foot wide. The loft had an open-concept setup, with brick walls, exposed beams, and rusted piping. Beck and Travis’s sleeping quarters were on one side of the room, while the other end featured couches, a bar area, and plenty of space for the night’s activity—knife throwing.
It was a small crowd tonight, not a party by any means, unless you counted the private party currently happening on a nearby couch. The two half-naked women tangled together there were drawing more than a few lustful glances from the knife-wielding men.
Lennox took a step back. Then another, this one at a forty-five-degree angle to his right. A second later, he wound his arm back and released the blade of the hunting knife when it was vertical to his target. The blade sliced into the wood as if the post were made of soft butter.
“Hit!” Beck exclaimed. He passed over the whiskey bottle so Lennox could take a swig.
Shit, he really wished he wasn’t so good at this game. The rules were rather ridiculous—instead of taking a shot each time he missed, the thrower drank when he hit his mark. Lennox wasn’t sure who came up with that, but it definitely wasn’t to his advantage. He was very, very good with a knife. Which meant he was going to get very, very drunk tonight.
Behind him, Rylan was still griping about the gripers. “And that guy that helps Graham in the kitchen? He said he’s sitting out tomorrow because squinting at the targets hurts his eyes. What the hell is wrong with these people? I’ve never met a more pathetic, sheltered crowd.”
Pike took his turn, then tipped the bottle
to his lips after his knife hit its mark. “There are some pretty decent fighters in the afternoon group,” he relented. “That chick Sam got me under her today.”
Rylan hooted. “Bullshit. You let her do that because you wanted her under you. You’re gonna be balls deep in that one tonight, brother.”
Pike didn’t deny it.
“Sam’s a wildcat in bed,” Beckett revealed with a grin. “She’ll scratch and claw the hell outta you.”
Pike looked intrigued, and Lennox tried not to roll his eyes. The bastard got off on sex with a side of violence. Shocker.
“Seriously, though,” Rylan said, his face growing strained again. “What do we do about these fuckers? I don’t think I can deal with another three weeks of this bullshit complaining. You’d think we’re doing them a disservice or something.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Gee, assholes, so sorry we’re teaching you how to defend yourselves. Ungrateful pricks.”
Lennox snickered. It was his turn to throw again. He let the knife fly, then watched as it pinged off the post and bounced on the floor. Thank fuck. He’d hit his last seven targets, and his head was starting to feel foggy from the subsequent whiskey shots. But not foggy enough to stop an idea from forming.
“This is what you should do,” he told Rylan, then nodded toward Beckett, who was flipping his knife in his left hand.
Rylan snorted. “What, throw knives at their heads and scare them into submission?”
“Make it fun. Turn it into a game.” Lennox paused as he worked over the details. “No, a competition. Split them up into teams and have them go up against each other. You can award points or some shit. Give ’em prizes.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Rylan said slowly.
“Could work,” Pike grunted. “Might shut them up.”
Rylan taunted his friend. “Thought their bitching didn’t bother you . . .”
“No, it’s fucking annoying, bro. I just don’t see the point in bitching about the bitching.”
Lennox laughed.
“Up again, Len,” Beckett said.