"Oh. Okay, before dinner we can go then," he said. I watched him shove a large mouthful of oily bread between his lips and chase it with canned pear.

"No, I can shop by myself. Just need to know where to go, is all."

With a sigh, he pushed away from the table, gathering up his dishes though he wasn't finished eating and said over his shoulder on the way into the kitchen. "I'll be ready at sunset. Maybe you should put a bra on or something."

My hands stayed shoved into my pockets as we walked. The night was overcast, hiding the early autumn moon from us as we took the sidewalk through the ritzy neighborhoods that bordered the Riverview Golf Course. I quietly followed Drake, irritated as h.e.l.l at the fact that he wouldn't just point me in the direction I needed to go.

With no map, I didn't know where we were or what was nearby. But I did know that it wasn't safe to travel through the area during the day, as I found out the hard way after being shot off Foxy a few weeks before. The little information Drake did share was that there were lookouts placed atop the tallest buildings flanking the 22 freeway in an effort to regulate who gained access to the 5. It was smart on behalf of the thugs - placing snipers along the Santa Ana River. The only reason why I hadn't snuck out of Drake's place already was because he knew where the a.s.sholes hid out. He had spent the last two months watching them and following them around parts of Orange County. Twice he saw them take down a random survivor. And that was all he told me. I knew he was hiding a lot more information and for some reason, he didn't feel comfortable sharing it yet. So I stayed, waiting for the day when I could pry the info I needed out of him to enact my b.l.o.o.d.y revenge.

But first, I needed clothes that stayed on my hips and didn't slide off my bony shoulders. It took less than half an hour to walk to the closest mall. After picking my way through a handful of stores, I changed right there in the aisles while Drake wandered off with a flashlight to find his own supplies. We both hit the sidewalk again with backpacks full of miscellaneous items. Plus a treat or two.

Halfway back to the house, the clouds parted above us and moon rays. .h.i.t the sidewalk, lighting the concrete up with a pale blue glow. Most of the streets were empty but trash blew across the ground everywhere. Papers, plastic bags, cardboard and clothing filled the gutters. Most of the homes that faced the main streets had broken windows and busted doors on account of being pilfered over the last year. There weren't any signs of recent life on the streets, but obviously others had picked the area clean at some point.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, not looking at Drake.

A momentary pause went by before he spoke over his shoulder at me, "Long enough to know not to cross the river."

"What do you mean?"

"That's where they seem to pa.s.s through a lot. I don't get close enough to see what they're doing, just to see where they go." He shrugged and kicked at an empty milk jug that rested on its side in the center of the street.

"Then why do you stay if you don't care what they're doing?" I asked angrily. His lack of interest p.i.s.sed me off. I wanted to chuck something at the back of his head. The visual image of my shoe bouncing off his buzzed and brown hair almost made me grin.

He whirled around to face me so quickly that I b.u.mped into his chest. "I've seen them kill. I know what they can do, and I know they run all over this City like they own it. I'm adapting, just like you. Why is that any different than what you've done this year?" His eyes were dark and squinted as he glared at me.

With an uplifted tilt of my chin, I steadied my breath despite how close he stood to me. "It's not the same thing at all. You're hiding from them and from anyone else you could find out there," I threw my arm out beside me and gestured down the street. "If you aren't here to bring them down, then what's the point of staying and watching?"

Only an inch of s.p.a.ce separated his nose from mine as he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I never said there wasn't a point."

I gawked at his back as he spun away and continued down the street as if the conversation never happened. Fidgeting with the strap of my pack, I walked quietly behind him, lost in my thoughts.

What was he planning? And why wouldn't he tell me what it was?

CHAPTER seventeen.

The wind howled like a dying wolf outside the windows and rattled the solar panels on the roof. It had a ferocity so intense I figured it was only a matter of time before they slid off the top of the terracotta tiles and landed with a crash on the driveway and back patio. They were what kept the house running, just as if the power had never been lost. Except for those few days where a storm ripped through California with one goal only - destroy anything and everything in its path.

I turned away from the moisture-clouded gla.s.s and readjusted my feet beneath me as I pushed deeper into the chair. Drake was lounged on the sectional, his feet propped on a pair of matching cushions with Swarovski crystals sewn delicately onto the silk fabric. I think he used the lavish throw pillows as foot props on purpose as a way to spite the previous owners who spent money on things that had no true worth. The house was full of valuable items from all around the world that meant absolutely nothing anymore. Value had a different meaning. Fresh water and food had become our gold and silver.

"How long are you going to stare at me?" he asked without looking up from his book.

I inwardly chastised myself for blushing but since he had yet to glance up at me, the embarra.s.sment faded quickly. "I'm not staring. I was thinking," I said a bit too rough.

"Thinking...and staring." Again, he didn't look up but I thought I caught a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

With an exasperated sigh, I glanced back outside at the cold wind that had the tropical plants in the backyard thrashing around wildly. Even after hearing the sound of paper rustle and the hardcover book snap shut, I didn't look at Drake. The feel of his eyes burned into the back of my neck and I wiped at the sensation on my skin nervously.

Eventually he spoke, "What's wrong? You're more pouty than usual."

"And you're just as rude, I see."

"You think I'm rude?" he laughed.

"Unpleasantly rude and not very thoughtful," I grumbled under my breath, finally looking at him.

His smile fell immediately. "If I was either of those things, I would have just left you bleeding out in the mud."

"Then why didn't you?" I snapped.

Drake's hands flew up in front of his face like he wanted to strangle something. "I'm not as much of an a.s.s as you think. Have I proved otherwise?"

"Yes!" I nearly shouted the answer. "You seem to want to keep me here but won't tell me why! I know nothing about you, your story, or how you got here. You just expect me to sit here like some weak woman and eat the food that you provide and treat you like the master. That's not how I work!"

He kicked the crystal pillows to the ground and stood from the couch, crossing the sitting room in four strides, tugging at his shirt as he walked. I flinched away from him as he pulled the black top over his head and threw it into my face, standing before me bare-chested. The shirt smelled subtly of soap but it wasn't the clean smell that had me distracted, or by Drake's sudden and aggressive approach. It was the scars that streaked across his chest like an amateur landscape drawing.

With a yank, he s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand and pulled me out of the chair so roughly I came up on my toes. Slowly, and almost as if he thought the touch might be painful, he placed my palm on one of the scars just between his pectoral muscles. His gaze settled on something over my head and he began to talk in a hushed voice, like he didn't want the walls of the house to hear his words.

"I came through this area with another survivor, hiking on the same trail you used. He went down after the first series of shots but I ran and I would have made it if my f.u.c.king boot laces didn't get tangled in a stray piece of wire fencing." As he talked, he moved my hand gently along the scars but didn't seem to feel it; his eyes were detached and hollow. "They were on me in seconds. Three men, all with guns," he paused and blinked slowly before looking down at me, "I think it's obvious one of them likes to use a knife."

When he let go of my hand, it lingered on his skin until he stepped back. I sucked my lower lip in before inhaling. The severe arch of his eyebrows relaxed slightly and for the first time, I saw him as a regular person just like me - a survivor.

"How did you live through that?" I tried not to stare at the series of scars that broke apart the fine spattering of his chest hair.

"Well, there wasn't anyone there to drag me out of the mud, if that's what you mean." He walked away, leaving me standing alone in the open sitting area, clutching his still warm shirt, stunned into a humble silence.

For the rest of that evening Drake stayed upstairs, locked away in his room, just two doors down from mine. No movement came from the end of the hall. There was no sound. A few times I found myself stepping out onto the highly polished wood to check on him, but my bare feet never made it more than two steps from my door frame.

As the brutal wind picked up speed and the storm drenched the house from all possible angles, my time was spent propped on the bed in positions that didn't aggravate my wounds. Wood logs popped and sizzled in the fireplace that took up most of the lower part of the wall separating the sleeping room from the bathroom. The smell of the burning wood filled the entire upper level. Any other circ.u.mstances and I would have loved the home, especially after roughing it through town on horseback with Connor and Kris for almost a week. But a house with a gla.s.s and marble fireplace in the master suite didn't bring joy or happiness or even excitement - only sadness that I couldn't share it with them.

Every time the house creaked I would peek into the hall, expecting to see Drake pa.s.sing by my room on his way to the stairs but he never appeared. It was clear he only told me how he ended up in that part of town because he was angry and not because he suddenly felt comfortable speaking with me openly. Guilt plagued me for doubting his intentions but a question nagged inside my head like a leech - refusing to let go until it was sated with an answer.

Where could I find this man with the knife?

Drake hovered over his cereal bowl like he was afraid someone would s.n.a.t.c.h it out from under his mouth. After having skipped dinner the night before, he was working on his second serving of cinnamon oatmeal. He stirred a spoonful of raisins into the slop until I couldn't see them anymore.

"Hungry?" I asked, sipping orange juice.

Pulp settled at the bottom of the gla.s.s while I watched Drake eat. Our supply of fresh oranges was almost gone after making juice every morning that week. The great thing about Southern California wis that every neighborhood had a fruit tree of some kind. The trick was finding the ripe ones.

He didn't answer, only continued to eat as if I wasn't there. It had rained off and on throughout the night and even with all four fireplaces in the house lit and roaring, it was still chilly inside. I thought I had heard Drake walk down the hall twice sometime before dawn, but I was too tired to slip out from under the blankets to see what he was doing.

"What time did you get up this morning?" I figured small talk would warm him up a bit.

He licked brown sugar off his spoon and set it aside before gulping down half a cup of juice. "When you did. I heard your door. Why?"

I set the gla.s.s down and looked at him curiously. "You didn't get up early this morning?"

"No, I was pa.s.sed out." He looked at me clearly annoyed. "What?"

"Nothing. I thought I heard you walk down the hall a few hours ago. Must have been the house settling...or something." I stared at the orange pulp and picked a small seed out of my cup before glancing back up at Drake. He was watching me carefully.

"Or something," he repeated.

"Can I ask you a question?" I didn't pause to wait for his reply, "I'm just curious if this place was empty before you...you know...moved in." I met his eyes and stared at him.

"No."

Lifting an eyebrow, I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, I tilted my head and raised a hand in a gesture that meant I was eager for more information. My hand stayed suspended in the s.p.a.ce between us, propped up by my elbow, until he finally gave in and exhaled an irritated sigh.

"No, the house wasn't empty. There was a rich couple in a car parked in the garage. My guess is they ga.s.sed themselves before the bug had a chance to take them out."

"Oh. Well, where are they now?"

"What do you mean? It's not like I left them there."

"I meant, how did you...dispose of the bodies?" My chest heaved as I attempted to regulate my breathing.

"What the h.e.l.l kind of a question is that?" The kitchen stool sc.r.a.ped along the floor as he pushed away from the bar counter and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his bowl and spoon before walking around me to the sink. It was rare to see him in a short-sleeved top and the t-shirt clung to his upper body like it was half a size too small. I knew how many push-up's he did a day, it was probably hard for him to fit his arms into any shirt that didn't hang around the waist.

"I'm just curious, is all," I said, picking up my own dishes and setting them beside his in the metal drop down sink.

He groaned before facing me with a look of displeasure seeded deep in his eyes. "I buried them - kind of. Happy?"

"No," I muttered.

Buried, not burned. This meant they could still be hanging around the property. Most likely, they were and that's who I heard walking down the hallway earlier. I sighed and cleaned my dishes, ignoring the questionable looks that Drake shot in my direction every few seconds. He was hiding things from me, so it seemed only natural to hold my own secrets close to my chest for the time being. It wouldn't be the first time I was guarded with Drake. No doubt, it wouldn't be the last either.

A little alcohol was all it took to loosen Drake up and get him talking. And once he did, he wouldn't shut up. We sat on the sectional - me tucked under a throw blanket, half-buried beneath a mound of different shaped pillows and him in the opposite corner of the sofa. His feet propped up on the delicate coffee table, a large gla.s.s of wine in one hand. The rain had stopped but the wind made it seem even colder. There was only enough dry wood in the garage to last maybe two more fires. The next day we would have to bring home some more, or the week would end up with one or both of us freezing in the night.

"So you left your dog there? Why'd you do that?"

"Well, it didn't make sense to bring her when we would be on horseback. I don't know if she could walk that far." I sipped slowly from my own gla.s.s.

"s.h.i.t. If my dog lived, I wouldn't let her out of my sight."

"There are others at the lodge that need her."

I almost believed that to be true. The real reason I didn't bring Zoey with us was because in my heart, I was worried one or none of us would make it back. At least she was safe at the lodge with everyone else.

"Right. And this lodge, you think it's safe up there, tucked away in the mountains?"

He lifted one of his arms and propped it behind his head before leaning back into it. I was almost certain the gesture was done to show off his bicep. Impressive at it was, it wasn't enough for me to forget about Connor and the last time I saw him sitting in that same position.

"It's been safe there for the most part. No one else has found it. And we have solar power too, plus the lake."

"Huh."

"What?" I asked.

"It's just...what if there's a fire or some other natural disaster. You really want to be stuck on the top of a mountain for that?" He took a large swallow of wine.

"Where else should we go? Into the city, with all the-" I abruptly bit down on my lower lip, then tried to hide my slip by bringing the wine gla.s.s to my mouth, but Drake wasn't drunk enough to miss what I almost said.

"You mean, with all the dead people?"

I nodded. And sipped wine.

"In the city with the bodies...or the shadows?" He wasn't teasing me, he was waiting for me to confirm that he wasn't the only one that had seen or heard something paranormal.

I shrugged, trying to play off my reaction like neither option bothered me, "Both, I guess."

"Right," he huffed, "Something tells me it would take more than a dead body to spook you."

"I guess that's true now. It wasn't nine months ago."

The day I found my mother dead in her apartment flashed through my memory. And the baby still strapped into the stroller inside the bus depot. That day brought me face to face with enough death to last one hundred life times.

"It wasn't for any of us." Drake's eyes glazed over as he stared at the wall.

"Who was the person you were traveling with?" It was a personal question. One that I intended to lead into the conversation about what he saw over the last few months.

"Someone I met on the road. He was a nice guy. A good guy. Had a family before the bug hit. Was a couple years older than me."

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Lewis. Lewis something." He finally blinked and looked from the wall to me again. "More?" He leaned forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing the bottle of wine - it was our second - and poured some in my gla.s.s before waiting for my answer.

It was as good a time as any to bring up my questions. "Drake, do you know where the a.s.shole that nearly killed you is?"

His hand tightened around his gla.s.s, but instead of getting defensive or shutting down completely, he surprised me by nodding. "Yup. I've known where that f.u.c.ker's been hiding out for a while now."

"Really? Mind sharing?" I sipped my wine and tried to stay calm. But I felt like my intentions were written all over my face. I didn't want to tell Drake that the moment I knew that information would be my last moment with him.