Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(70)
The trees thrashed outside the house. Branches creaked and snapped.
Guards were stationed at the head of Tanglewood Drive. Mobile patrols were on alert. More sentries manned the sniper nests and fighting stations along the perimeter.
The forward observers kept a constant watch, ready to report any suspicious activity at a moment’s notice. Liam couldn’t do anything more that wasn’t already done.
He waited for Hannah.
49
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Hannah perched on the sofa beside him. An expectant charge in the air, like an electric current between them. She offered him a shy smile. “I guess we’re alone.”
“I guess we are,” he said, his voice suddenly husky.
Hannah leaned in and grazed his mouth with her lips.
His heart rate quickened. Electricity zapped through his entire body.
He kissed her back, fully and deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close. She put her hands on either side of his head and stroked his scalp.
He could have lost himself in this moment forever.
With a soft, satisfied smile, she sat back and eyed him. “Take off your shirt.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is that a command?”
She blushed but didn’t drop her gaze. “Priorities, Liam Coleman. I’m supposed to nurse you back to health.”
“By all means.” Liam winced as he moved to remove his shirt. The gunshot wound was healing, the infection gone. It still hurt like a mother, though.
Hannah changed out the bandage for a fresh one, cleaned the wound, and applied tea tree oil as a topical antibiotic. Now that the infection was under control, they’d switched to natural remedies to save their remaining stock for serious cases.
From Molly’s stash of survival books, Hannah had learned about effective natural remedies used for thousands of years. She wrote it all down in her notebook and copied pertinent information for Evelyn and Lee.
“I can do that myself, you know.”
“Not as well as I can.”
From the floor, Ghost chuffed his agreement.
Liam rolled his eyes. “I see I’m outnumbered.”
“I think you’ll always be outnumbered.”
He grunted as Hannah completed her task and eased him onto his stomach on the sofa. Heat from the fireplace warmed his sore, exhausted muscles. The thrumming rain lulled him, weights pulling at his eyelids. He could have slept for a month.
He couldn’t rest, not truly, until he’d eliminated the threat of the General—and Poe.
Hannah scooted beside him and kneaded his shoulders. He relaxed into her. Her hands were strong and supple as she worked, even her injured hand as she eased his knotted muscles and tight discs. The pain receded.
Once Hannah had finished her ministrations, he rose and checked the house, unease crawling beneath his skin as he searched the darkened, rain-drenched street.
Nothing moved. No threats presented themselves.
When he returned, Hannah was standing beside the sofa, her hair down around her shoulders, eyes shining in the firelight.
She ducked her head shyly, glancing at him through her eyelashes. Sorrow in her face, and worry, but something else, a small thing flaring bright and fierce. Hope.
Longing filled him.
You had to seize the moment. You never knew when it would be the last time. To give a hug. To say what you needed to say.
He went to Hannah and took her in his arms. She pressed herself against him and lifted her face to his. He kissed her, hard and hungry.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you,” she whispered back.
Her hands grazed his chest. She kissed him deeper— “Mom?” A soft voice came from the hallway.
Socked feet padded toward them.
Hannah stepped back, her eyes big and wide and bottomless.
“Can’t sleep,” Milo said, his voice groggy. “Another bad dream.”
With great effort, Liam tore his gaze from Hannah. Milo glanced between them, blinking blearily, tousled black curls standing up all over his head. He wore an oversized men’s shirt that fell to his knees—Noah’s.
He hesitated, a crease between his brows. Like a deer crouched at the edge of the trees, tentative and cautious, unsure if it was safe to approach.
Liam smiled. “Come on over.”
He shuffled into the living room, rubbing his eyes. Hannah opened her arms to him. Liam made room, and the boy squeezed himself between their bodies, wrapped his arms around Hannah’s middle, and buried his face against her stomach.
Over his head, she flashed Liam a sheepish smile, mouthing I’m sorry.
She had nothing to apologize for.
This was family. Parenthood. Love in all its messiness.
“Can you sing me ‘Blackbird’ again?” Milo mumbled into her shirt. “That always helps.”
“Of course, honey.” She took Milo’s hand and led him back toward his bedroom.
“To be continued,” Liam said.
Hannah looked back over her shoulder, rewarding him with a smile that outshone the sun.
50
Liam