Flesh (Flesh 1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Finn sat at the table, watching Ali sleep. It was evening, he had been up and dressed for hours, but she slept on. The book in his hand kept him occupied. It was … interesting, to say the least. It gave him a greater appreciation for her concerns.

“Hey,” she murmured. Al blinked sleepy eyes at him and then the room, taking in the dark, the lantern beside him on the table. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight. You slept all day.”

The red stain on her cheek had paled. The dark circles beneath her eyes had lessened. Sleep had done her good, despite the odd disturbance.

Several times she had stirred from nightmares, lul ed back to sleep by him or Dan or both. One of them kept his eyes on her every second, taking turns watching. Eventually their agreement to haunt her every step would earn a negative reaction, but not yet.

He found he liked being needed by her. He liked it a lot.

“What are you reading?”

Finn held the book cover high for her inspection. “Are you aware contractions are like warm waves caressing you?”

She screwed her nose up at him. “Sounds like some fantastic bullshit, Finn.”

“Attitude’s important, Al. The book said so,” Finn chided, dropping the baby manual on the table. They’d avoided those concerns of hers because, truth be told, he hadn’t known what to say. Information had been required.

He rose from the chair and slunk over to the bed as she watched, all wary eyed. The frown eased some as he sat beside her on the mattress, leant in to press his lips against hers. “Wonder what a baby of ours would look like?”

“Beautiful, I guess … You’re both beautiful.” Her eyes dropped, hesitating, but then she kissed him back, sweet, soft kisses easing him. Al was safe, secure. He needed the physical proof. They were both worriers in their own way. “Would it bother you if this imaginary baby looked like Daniel?”

It wasn’t like it hadn’t occurred to him. He kissed her some more before answering.

“No. You’re mine, and I want a part of any baby that’s yours.” He opened his mouth wider, incited her to do likewise. Her tongue stroked over his in welcome, the touch light, thrilling. Behind his zipper his c**k stirred, the electric hum of arousal spreading through him. “We’re family, Al, the three of us.” Finn hooked a finger over the sheet she was holding against her br**sts, lowered it. “They said some interesting things about the sensitivity of ni**les during pregnancy.”

“Did they?”

“Hmm.” Finn traced over the line of her collarbone, tried to ignore the twitching in his pants. Touching her didn’t help, but the low rumble of her stomach did. “You need to eat before anything else.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

He smiled. “No. It’s closer to, ‘I have some fresh fruit and half-stale cereal for you.’ You have such a lewd mind.”

“You like it,” she said.

“I love it.” Finn breathed in deep: sex and soap and antiseptic lotion. Plus the special something, solely her.

“Where’s Dan?”

“Helping Sam fix a generator. Shouldn’t be long.” He climbed off the bed. One of them needed to before things got out of hand. She really should eat.

Al wandered off to the bathroom as he set the table, poured juice into a glass, cereal into a bowl. Everything was ready and waiting when she emerged a few minutes later dressed in the usual jeans and t-shirt, her hair tied back and face damp from washing. He welcomed the normalcy of routine. They could live like this no problem. Mostly petty jealous bul shit had fueled the recent fighting. A near-death experience tended to clear up communication issues pretty damn fast. Or maybe it reshuffled priorities back into their pertinent order.

Finn smiled at her, and she smiled back.

The guy from the supply runs appeared at the top of the stairs. The one who had collected their weapons the day they arrived.

Finn hesitated, surprised, certain Dan would have locked the door. Owen. That was his name. And the first thing that came to mind was that something had happened to Dan. This guy was bringing the news.

“What …” Finn stepped forward, and the guy raised his hand. There was a gun in it. Owen’s eyes were empty and his mouth set.

Owen, not Andy, and the gun had a silencer attached. Owen was working with Andy. They wanted to hurt her. His heart beat frantically.

Fuck.

“Al!” A muffled crack, followed by the impact of the bullet. It sent Finn stumbling back and a world of pain ensued. A universe of it.

Then everything went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ali watched Finn stumble, fall. Her head spun sickeningly. There was so much blood.

She scrambled forward as Owen barked something, waved the gun at her. It was al peripheral, unreal. She couldn’t make out the words. Her brain wouldn’t accommodate them.

She had to reach Finn. Had to.

His closed eyes and ashen face tore at her. He looked like he’d been tossed aside by an uncaring hand, lying slumped against the brick wall, blood seeping from his chest. The front of his t-shirt slowly soaked it up. He might have only been asleep if it weren’t for al the blood.

She moved jerkily forward and Owen’s hand closed around her wrist. He gripped tight enough to grind her bones together, to drag her to a halt. He twisted her arm up behind her back. It should have hurt, but she had gone numb.

Finn.

He pushed the barrel of the gun beneath her ribs. She saw it, but she didn’t feel it. It made her wonder if the punch of a bullet would hurt, wake her up.

“Let’s go,” Owen said. “Cooperate or I go find your other boyfriend and shoot him too. Move.”

Her jaw flapped but no sound came out.

Owen strong-armed her toward the stairs, down them, the gun shoved beneath her ribs the entire time. He was strong and handled her easily.

She had to get back to Finn. Had. To. Had to stop this before Dan came strolling in and the prick shot him too. Owen needed to die before this nightmare worsened. He would die whatever it took.

Owen pulled her along, keeping her close, keeping up the grip on the gun and her wrist. If he had been behind her on the stairs, it wouldn’t have worked. Halfway down the stairs, she threw her half-formed plan into action. With a strangled scream, Ali smashed herself into Owen. She threw al of her weight against him.

Surprised and caught off balance, he toppled to his knees. Gravity took over.

She had hoped he would let go. He did, but only of the gun. It bumped its way down the steps ahead of them.