Breakout Read online

  “My car broke down awhile back, about a mile down the road,” she said. “And I’m trying to make it to a settlement south of here, in the Austin area. Can you help me find a car?”

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix your car. Before I was C.I.D. number 246741-213, I was a damn fine auto mechanic.”

  Chapter 2

  “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  Monarch knelt, crouching over Corbin who now leaned back against the sofa. After the good news that the man in her living room was an auto mechanic, Monarch enthusiastically jumped up to retrieve her meager first aid kit. Yes, Corbin was a criminal who didn’t wish to talk about his past which almost guaranteed it was horrible and scary. But he hadn’t murdered her yet and he could fix her car. This could be the first piece of good luck she’d stumbled on in months.

  His wound was big, ugly, and needed stitches. Monarch cleaned it as best she could, feeling awkward at touching a stranger’s leg. The first time her fingers brushed the crisp hair of his upper thigh, her breath caught. To make matters worse, Corbin remained completely silent. His dark, brooding energy only added to her discomfort.

  Now, with a needle threaded, Monarch was about to stitch a wound, something she had never done before in her life. What if she screwed up? Would he get angry? Convicts didn’t really mind scars, right? “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

  “Get it over with, Monarch,” came the impatient reply.

  His use of her name gave her an odd sensation. Monarch took a deep breath and plunged the needle through his skin. He tensed but made no sounds, his face unflinching. Monarch felt woozy at the first puncture but steeled her resolve and kept moving. She powered through it for several minutes until she finally felt the need to break the silence. “I, uh, saw the bus crash. Do you know what caused it?”

  “The driver and another guy got into a fight over something stupid. It escalated and the driver got punched and lost control. They were both dumbasses. By the time I saw what was happening it was too damn late.”

  “H-how many of you were there?”

  “The five of us were all that made it out of the prison last week.”

  Monarch was dying to ask for details but Corbin changed the subject. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  “Yeah, I have red wine. Do you want some?”

  “I do. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in over three years.”

  The reference to his incarceration brought Monarch back to reality. He had been in prison for over three years! She needed to remember that there was no use getting chummy with this man. They would help each other out and move on. She moved to the kitchen, poured some pinot noir into a coffee cup and brought it to him before resuming her stitching. “This will probably leave an ugly scar. I’m no nurse.”

  She got nothing more than a grunt in response. Just as well. He was nothing but a means to an end.

  When she finally finished the stitching she grabbed some antibiotic ointment and rubbed a generous amount over the red gash before covering it with bandages. “Done. That’s the best I can do. Here’s some ibuprofen for the pain, probably should have given that to you before.”

  “Uh huh,” Corbin replied as he washed the pills down with a generous gulp of wine. His eyes were heavy lidded and Monarch knew he was close to collapsing in exhaustion. For an instant she considered escaping as soon as he fell asleep. But she quickly thought better of it. She wasn’t giving up this house. Plus, she needed a car, and this stranger was the closest thing to a solution she would come across. The hardest part was trusting him at his word. What if he was lying? What if he would use her and then split the moment he was better? What if he fixed her car and then stole it? What if he murdered her while she slept?

  She would have to take her chances.

  Monarch moved to get up but stopped as Corbin’s hand came down on her arm in a brutal grip.

  “Hold it.”

  Equal parts of fear and anger rippled through her. “Get your mitts off me.”

  Corbin managed to look completely intimidating despite half-laying on the floor with a wounded leg and fatigue all over his face. “I can’t trust you.”

  “I don’t trust you either. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we’ve known each other ten minutes and we met because you broke into my house.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re sleeping with me.”

  Monarch’s jaw dropped at the same time her stomach did. “What!?”

  Corbin ran his free hand across his face. “I meant actually sleeping. I need to rest and I can’t trust you not to kill me while I sleep. So you are staying on the couch. With me.”

  No way in hell, pal.

  Monarch could not believe the balls on this guy. Then she decided she didn’t want to think about his balls. “I think the crash rattled your brain. I’m not sleeping with you or near you, I’ll go in the bedroom.”

  Corbin struggled but managed to pull himself up on to the sofa, staring down at her. “It’s not an option. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

  The threat hung in the air. Monarch looked into his eyes, the glacier-like blue depths holding nothing but coldness and utter domination. She’d made a deal with the devil. And apparently the devil wore a bright orange jumpsuit. “I didn’t come this far to be raped and murdered by a criminal,” she whispered.

  “And I didn’t come this far to let an over-dramatic beauty queen keep me up all night when I can get a comfortable night’s sleep for the first time in over three goddamn years.”

  There it was again, the reference to his imprisonment. And yet Monarch found herself concentrating on the fact that he called her a beauty queen. Ugh, why did she care? Had she finally lost it? Of course he found her attractive. This man hadn’t been laid in years.

  “Don’t make this difficult, Monarch. I have no plans to assault you. Just lay down on the goddamn couch.”

  Monarch felt the sting of tears again. It was humiliating, to be forced to do something she didn’t want to do. And even more so to cry in front of this hulking asshole. God, why did he have to keep looking at her with those eyes? She got up and lay down on the couch, as stiff as a corpse.

  Corbin must have noticed the unshed tears, or her defiant posture, or both. And it must have struck the only tiny shred of decency he had left because as he moved to lay beside her he grumbled, “There’s no need to cry about it. I won’t hurt you.”

  Wanna bet?

  Monarch turned her face away, toward the couch cushions. He was laying on his right side, keeping his injured leg up and fencing her in. His words seemed to make her want to cry even more, and she bit her lip in frustration. How much more could one woman take? Life as she knew it was over, everyone she had ever known was probably dead, she was completely alone and struggling to survive, and now an overgrown convict who broke into her house was attempting to comfort her all while forcing her to sleep next to him. Really, it was too much. “I’m not crying. I’ve been through much worse than this.”

  “I believe that,” He replied, something close to admiration in his tone.

  Monarch shifted a little, so that her back was to him and closed her eyes. She knew she would never be able to go to sleep next to him. And as she lay there in the dark she heard him mumble one word as he began to doze.

  “Thanks.”

  ****

  Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtain, bathing her face. Monarch roused, confused for a moment until she remembered the events of the previous night. She was still facing the couch cushions. And the stranger named Corbin was still plastered against her back. But now his bulky, tattooed arm was draped over her middle. And there was a very distinctive hardness pressed against her ass.

  Holy shit.

  Fully awake now, Monarch wanted to leap off the couch but didn’t dare move. She didn’t trust Corbin further than she could throw him, and who knew what would set him off. He was a convicted felon, he hadn’t been with a woman
in an extraordinarily long time, and he currently pressed his erection into her ass. Which, Monarch bragged to herself, was still a pretty nice ass despite her lost weight.

  What could she do? She had to figure out a way out of this compromising position. With no better ideas, she was about to turn and breathe hot smelly morning breath into his face when he she heard him groan.

  The devil was awake.

  He groaned again and it sounded like a groan of pain. She turned her head and discovered that her left hand was lying directly on his wounded thigh. Gripping it was more like it. Monarch ripped her hand away as if it were burned, but not before Corbin’s eyes opened and witnessed the cause of his discomfort.

  “Jesus Christ. I see your bedside manner hasn’t improved, Nurse Ratched.”

  His voice was deep and gritty and made Monarch think of tangled sheets and sweaty bodies. Wait, where the hell did that come from? She was lying on a couch in a mobile home next to an intruder. Not exactly the stuff of romance novels. “It was your idea to share the couch,” she replied, turning away, not quite sure how to get off the couch without straddling him. She needed to pee.

  “Hey, nothing personal. If it wasn’t for the gash on my leg I would feel much different about waking to your hand on—”

  “That’s it!” Monarch leapt over him like a lightning bolt to stand in the middle of the living room, arms akimbo. “Don’t say it. Look, we have a deal. If you need help with the wound let me know, otherwise, let’s avoid touching one another.”

  She spun on her heel and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door. Once she used the toilet, she used water she kept in a bucket to make it flush. It was a waste of water but sometimes she just couldn’t bring herself to go outside. Then she brushed her teeth, splashed a bit of bottled water on her face, and started to feel somewhat human again.

  Monarch surveyed her appearance in the mirror: long copper-colored hair, once her pride and joy, now knotted and pulled back into a messy ponytail, large green eyes in a pale, and somewhat dirty, face, and a thin framed build made thinner due to months of rationing food. She didn’t intimidate but luckily she didn’t entice either.

  She changed clothes, setting the outfit she had been in aside for washing. Three days was enough. She donned a pair of jeans and a University of Texas Longhorns sweatshirt her teenage niece picked out for her two Christmases earlier. Just the sight of the shirt had her almost doubling over with emotion.

  Oh, Jordan, are you even alive? My sweet girl…

  She hadn’t seen Jordan in almost a year, since visiting her brother and niece for a long weekend in early spring, back before everything happened. Duke had been in high spirits, having met a woman he couldn’t stop talking about. It was obvious Jordan liked her too, though she rolled her eyes every time Duke mentioned one of their dates. His ex, Jordan’s mom, had taken off years before, leaving without a word. Since then, Jordan and Duke had only each other.

  And me. They have me!

  After a few minutes Monarch composed herself and exited the bathroom. Her new roomie was still reclined on the couch, though he had scooted up to rest his back on the arm. The light of day revealed cuts and bruises on his face and arms. The ripped leg of his jumpsuit was stained almost black with dried blood.

  “The man that owned this house looked to be about your size in the family photos. You should take some of his clothes from the master closet,” she offered, needing something to say.

  Corbin nodded. As Monarch studied his blood-stained jumpsuit more, a new thought occurred to her, an alarming one. “Do you think anyone else survived that bus crash?”

  “The three other guys I saw when I made my way out were definitely dead. I don’t know about the fourth.” He shook his head.

  “Should we be worried that he might find this house?”

  “It wouldn’t be ideal,” he said dispassionately, his face revealing no emotion. “He’s not the kind of guy you want dropping in. It’d be best if we had a gun. Do we?”

  Monarch hesitated, not sure if she should admit to the stranger on the couch that she did not have the protection of a firearm. And the casual way he discussed the topic scared her, not to mention his use of the word “we”. “No. And how do I know he’s the bad guy? Maybe you are and you don’t want the other guy showing up to help.”

  Corbin expression turned to stone. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  Monarch snorted.

  He sat up, his eyebrows narrowed. “My guess is that Byron’s probably dead. But even if he is, it would be good to have them for protection. If you are planning to travel all the way to Austin, a good lookin’ woman all alone, you need a gun.”

  It was said casually, but something inside Monarch responded involuntarily when Corbin once again called her attractive. There was a slight thrill deep inside, something completely illogical and altogether annoying.

  So much time alone must have finally rendered me bat shit crazy. Like I care that some dirty criminal thinks I’m pretty.

  Sure, he happened to be a really good looking criminal but he was a jerk. And he probably thought anything with a vagina was pretty…

  “There is only one store within walking distance,” Monarch replied, “and it’s just a corner store. I can get all the food and first aid items I want, but it doesn’t have guns.”

  “What about other houses? Surely this far out in the country the majority of homeowners were gun owners. This is Texas after all. Within a few miles in one direction or another there are bound to be some guns.”

  Monarch had thought about that, she wasn’t an idiot, but up until now she’d done nothing. She felt bad enough about living in a family’s home and hadn’t wanted to steal from another’s. But having a huge, potentially dangerous stranger five feet in front of her was a reminder that a woman in the apocalypse wasn’t well served by softness or altruism. “I…uh…I planned to try that soon. My first priority was stocking up on food. I hadn’t seen any people since I got here.”

  Corbin studied her face, and it made Monarch feel vulnerable. Like he somehow knew that deep down inside she was weak, filled with emotions she couldn’t afford to have. When he finally did speak, it was a complete subject switch. “I like your shirt. I was always a Longhorn fan.”

  Monarch looked down at the UT sweatshirt and her lip quivered before she could stop it. She turned quickly and headed into the kitchen. “You make a good point about the guns. I’ll go look today, the closest house is a couple miles north of here. But—” Monarch turned back toward him. Now that her emotions were under control a new concern surfaced. Dare she leave this man in her house while she went out on a search? As she opened her mouth to say as much Corbin interrupted her, as if he read her thoughts.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you will only slow me down.”

  Corbin tilted his head in thought. “You know, two of the guys in the bus with me had guns they’d managed to grab off dead guards. We could always go check out the bus and see if we can find one. I should have grabbed one last night but I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Monarch paled at the idea of heading back to that wreckage and sifting through crunched metal and dead decomposing bodies to look for guns. And if Byron wasn’t dead she didn’t want to be anywhere in his vicinity. “Um, why don’t I try the houses nearby first? If I don’t find any then we can consider that.”

  Corbin stood up, favoring his leg he stumbled a bit. Monarch almost went to him out of instinct, to help another person who needed it, but she stopped herself. The less time she spent in close proximity to him, the better. And she just demanded they not touch.

  He righted himself with a grimace. “I think I need more ibuprofen.”

  “I’m eating some canned peaches for breakfast. You interested?”

  “Yeah,” Corbin replied as he limped toward the front door and then after a pause he added, “Please.”

  A few minutes later two cans of peaches had been consume
d, all the while Corbin closing his eyes as if in utter ecstasy as he relished their sweetness. Monarch shifted uncomfortably, flustered over his passionate reaction and moved at how long it must have been since he truly enjoyed a meal.

  Monarch disposed of the empty cans then grabbed her back pack for her trip. She put a bottle of water and a granola bar in it for later and left the rest of it empty to hopefully fill with any guns she would find. Not that she had any plans of telling Corbin if she found any. Like she needed the man to have access to a deadly weapon. He was dangerous enough to her with bare hands.

  “I should come with you.”

  “Well you’re not. We have a deal. I help you rest and heal your wound and you help me fix my car. You trying to walk six miles round trip doesn’t factor in to that.” Monarch replied flatly as she redid her ponytail. “Besides, I have to move fast since I slept in and it’s almost noon already.”

  Corbin’s eyes bored into hers and she imagined that she could read his thoughts.

  You slept in with me. With my arm around you and my hard-on pressed against your—

  She needed to get a grip. She put a knife in her belt for safety and moved toward the door.

  What a lonely and desperate little thing you are, Winslow.

  “Don’t lock me out of my house, okay?” Monarch said sarcastically as she carefully opened the door, which barely shut the previous night after Corbin-the-Barbarian forced it open.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Corbin responded with a glint in his eye. “I enjoyed our little sleepover.”

  “Go to hell. And fix my door!” With that she turned and headed off in search of guns. And daydreamed about using one on the asshole in her living room.

  Chapter 3

  The day was a mixed bag.

  On the upside, Monarch found two handguns in the second house she tried. There was also a rifle but that was a bit much for her and Monarch left it alone. She managed to find a box of bullets too and stuck it in her backpack with the guns. She started walking back to the house, feeling pretty good about the mission despite the chilly December weather.