She gave him a blank look.

“You’ve got no shoes on. No jacket. It’s cold.”

She nodded dully and moved to the end of the bed, climbed up. The tarp crackled as she slipped beneath it, into the sleeping bag. Nick switched off the pickup’s parking lights then followed, pulling off his boots. He hadn’t stopped to put on socks. She’d be dead now if he had.

Having both of them in the sleeping bag made it cozy. He put an arm beneath her neck and the other over her waist. Her feet felt freezing so he pressed them between his, trying to warm her. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t exactly help either.

“You should have told me,” she said.

“You were upset enough that day.” His stomach growled, loudly. Sex always made him hungry. It had been hours since they’d eaten and it would be hours before they stood a chance of finding food—tomorrow morning at the earliest.

A mattress spring stuck into his hip. He’d slept on floors that were more comfortable. The air in the shed was frigid. They should have been in the cabin, curled up in bed with a roaring fire. They should have been f**king like bunnies. Everything else smelled like dust but she smelled like sex and feminine sweat. His dick gave signs of life and he angrily ignored it.

No matter how pissed he was at her, he still wanted her. Not a surprise.

There’d be no sleeping. He wouldn't risk leaving her unguarded. This place didn't feel that secure. Besides, every time he closed his eyes he saw that thing about to sink its teeth into her. One second later and she’d have been gone. Maybe he should take her to Blackstone. She’d be safe there, even if he wasn’t welcome. The walled community was still probably a hundred people strong. They were organized. She could have a life there.

The thought of it made his guts burn. Maybe she’d given him a stomach ulcer. But maybe Blackstone was the only choice.

Had their cabin burnt to the ground yet? Probably. Place had gone up like someone had poured on kerosene. What a balls-up. All of his plans had turned to shit. How would he protect her now?

“Were you really coming back?” he asked in a hard voice. He needed to know for sure. Inside of him felt like a f**king mess. He couldn’t make sense of the feelings.

“Yes,” she said.

“Why? You finally got away from me.”

“I told you. I realized we needed to talk things over.”

“Like what?”

“Like everything.” Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her.

“Because we f**ked?” he asked, choosing his words with care.

She sighed. “Honestly, Nick, I don’t know.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Roslyn stood patiently on the curb and watched as Nick broke into a clothes shop. They’d already gone through the drugstore across the street. Or he had. She’d been instructed to stand outside within view and wait. Like a dog being trusted off its chain, barely.

He still wouldn’t give her any more of the details of what had happened at the school. It had obviously been bad. The lost look in his eyes when she’d asked had stalled further questions, for now. It seemed surreal. Her brain wouldn’t quite wrap around the information.

The last of the people she’d known were gone.

Grief crept over her in waves. Crashing down on her and then withdrawing again. She didn’t know how to feel one second to the next. Her throat would tighten and her eyes tear up, and then, poof! Gone, as her mind busied itself once more in dealing with the here and now. Trying to figure a way out of the maze of this messed-up situation. A time or two she caught herself about to giggle hysterically. Maybe she was losing it.

She and Nick were half talking to each other. Sentences consisted of the smallest number of words possible and a meaningful flick of the hand. Sometimes he varied it, doing a grunt and a chin-tip instead, which was big of him.

The soles of her feet stung from the freezing cold concrete. She bounced her bag full of drugstore goodies off her legs, rattling the contents. Fidgeting always had helped distract her.

“Stop it,” he said. “You’ll break the reading glasses.”

“Oh. Why don’t you break the glass in the door?” she asked, then realized the answer. “Oh—the noise.” He paused for a moment and his shoulders tensed. Then he resumed tinkering with the lock, apparently foregoing the opportunity for a snarky reply. A moment later the door swung inward and he rose to his feet. He jerked his stubbly chin in the direction of the shop’s interior and gave her a meaningful look.

“Sorry?” she asked, maybe because contrariness was becoming her nature, at least when it came to him. And maybe because she was sick of the half-assed silent treatment.

He turned back to her with a pained expression, and looked at her from beneath dark brows. “Come inside. Please.”

“No problem.” Asshole. And to think she’d had sex with him. Never let your private parts dictate your choices. Therein lay the path to destruction.

Lay. Ha. Bad word choice.

Inside, the shop looked immaculate. Farm wear-type stuff, mostly, men and women’s. A bit of kidswear and some school uniforms, as well as bathmats and towels. There was an impressive amount packed into the neat little space.

Nick shut and locked the door behind her, then strode past, obviously going to check out the back room. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and he’d tucked a pistol into the back of his belt. She’d asked him for the gun and he’d just given her a nasty look. She hadn’t bothered to ask again. Couldn’t be that hard to find her own and she knew how to shoot. Her dad had insisted she knew enough not to shoot herself in the foot.