Page 170 of Beneath the Burn

A pause. “Can you do it with the shirt on? In case someone pokes their head in?”

She pushed down the impatience bubbling up inside her and bit his lip playfully. “One of these days, Jay Mayard, you will wear those scars with pride.”

Starting on his pecs, she kneaded over the bumps and valleys, working her way to the sinews connecting his neck and shoulders. He grinned and moaned and dug his fingers into her ass. As she ground her knuckles, the weight of the day pressed down and her body slumped closer and closer toward his. She stared into his golden-brown eyes until his eyelids drooped and hers soon followed.

89

A hollow reverberation woke Charlee. She jerked upright and banged her head on the bunk’s ceiling. “Ow, shit. What was that?”

Jay untangled their limbs, rolled off her and thudded into the aisle.

Feet pounded through the bus accompanied by Tony’s shout. “Delta team’s transport is down.”

What? One of the Suburbans? Charlee’s muscles locked up.

Pop….Pop.

“Alpha and Bravo down,” Tony barked. “I repeat. Three Suburbans are disabled.” Multiple footfalls filled the front and rear of the cabin.

Terror gripped Charlee’s insides and a shiver chased her spine. “Jay?” She jumped into the aisle. “Jay, was that a gun?”

Pop.

“Echo team down. We’re on our own.”

“Charlee!” Jay shoved the drape aside, his expression tight. “Charlee, get on the floor. Cover your head.” The white of his eyes glowed in the dim light.

She dropped to her knees and choked, “You better get down here with me.”

Pop.

The brakes squealed, and the force of the stop threw him into the front of the bus, beyond the fall of the drape. Her head slammed into the frame of the bunk. She rubbed at the throb and climbed to her feet only to drop again with an onslaught of dizziness.

“.50 cal shots. Engine blocks targeted.” Tony’s shout ripped through the sudden hush. “Colson, are we hit?”

“Affirmative. Engine block.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Tony’s tone pitched. “Set up the perimeter. We need to get off this goddamn bus.”

Charlee’s heart hammered, and her pulse screamed through her veins. Get off the bus? She knew they were sitting ducks, but how many Craigs would be waiting for them to pile onto the road? Was there traffic? Maybe someone could help them.

“Faye has 911 on the phone,” Nathan said from somewhere up front. “Where are the shooters?”

“A thousand meters. Could be more. That ridge, maybe,” Tony said through a rushed breath.

Thank fuck for their headsets. Charlee put all her faith in the communication and organization of the protective team.

A strong fiery smell tickled her nose. She moved toward the drape as Jay shot through it, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a wall of smoke.

She coughed, blinked through the haze. “Fire?” How would his triggers react? He seemed calm enough, in control.

“Engine’s smoking. I don’t know.” He pushed forward along the aisle, and the white cloud enveloped him. He was only an arm’s length away, and she couldn’t fucking see him.

“Jay! The gun. We need the gun.”

“I’ve got it.” His voice was hoarse, breathless. No oxygen. Too much smoke. “Pull your shirt—” He hacked, wheezed. “Over your mouth. Eyes closed.”

Wetness blurred and stung her eyes. The burn from the smoke forced so much saliva into her mouth she had to spit it out. She yanked the collar of her shirt up to her eyes, buried her face in the thin material, and let him guide her.

---