Page 25 of Last Light

The glass front has been smashed out, and the interior appears completely trashed, so there’s not much chance of finding anything useful inside.

But it’s stupid not to check. Travis pulls over.

“I’m gonna go in and take a look,” he says. “Slide over behind the wheel.”

I do as he says without questioning it.

“Have your gun ready,” he says, his expression sober. “If you see any trouble, drive away.”

“I’m not going to leave you behind!” I have to call the words out to his back because he’s already disappearing into the smashed storefront.

He’s been in there for a few minutes when I hear something from down the road.

It’s not an engine but the sound of voices.

I pick up my pistol, but there’s no way I’m going to drive off and leave Travis in danger. Not if I have any choice.

I don’t care what he told me. I’m not going to do it.

Leveling my gun at the approaching voices, I relax when the first thing I see are two young kids on bicycles.

Following them are three women and two men. All of them are riding bikes.

I guess if you don’t have a vehicle, a bike is better than walking.

“You don’t have to worry about us, honey,” one of the women calls out when she sees me. She looks like she’s close to fifty, and she has a pleasant smile. “We’re just passing through.”

I nod but don’t say anything. I lower my gun but keep my hand in position. I don’t want to point it at children, but I also want to be ready in case this group isn’t as harmless as they look.

“Are you on your own?” the same woman asks, pulling to a stop next to the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“No.”

“You sure ’bout that? You’re not in any danger from us, and you’d be safer in a group.” She nods back at one of the men—a grizzled guy with a shaggy beard and a gun in a shoulder holster. “Jimmy there doesn’t have a woman. He’d take real good care of you.”

I dart a quick glance at Jimmy and fight to keep my face from changing expression. “No, thank you.”

“Shouldn’t say no so quickly. Pretty girl like you needs a man.”

“I have a man,” I say without thinking.

“She’s got a man.” The voice follows on the heels of mine. Lower. Gruffer. Louder.

Travis.

He’s come out of the old store while we’ve been talking, and now he steps over and puts a hand on my shoulder.

It feels significant. Possessive. Like he’s staking his claim.

I feel that tight curl of heat below my belly I remember from a couple of days ago by the creek.

“I’m her man,” Travis says, rough and intimidating. He’s got his shotgun propped up against his shoulder. Not aimed or in position, but clearly visible. “So y’all just back off.”

“We didn’t mean no offense,” the first woman says, looking surprised and slightly disappointed but not like she’s going to put up a fight. “Sorry ’bout that. We thought she was alone.”

“She’s not.”

“Thanks anyway,” I say with a smile, wanting to end this conversation before anyone gets angry. “I appreciate the offer, but he takes good care of me. Good luck to you.”

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