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“Maybe we can work out a deal,” the first man tries, after taking another drink straight from the bottle. Fuck, man, I gave him a damn glass he won’t even touch. I won’t pour every single drink for him. Doesn’t anyone in this damn apocalypse have manners anymore?
“I don’t make deals. You can have this bar, and you can have this town, but you won’t ever touch my woman.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then run my knuckles down her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Death will be our foreplay.
“More people means more protection. We can all keep her protected. It’ll be a lot harder to do on your own,” the first man says, with more force this time.
“Maybe we should let the lady speak for herself,” the ponytail adds.
“Go away before I make you go away.” The playfulness in my voice is gone and replaced by something dark and cold. My hand drops to the hem of Emily’s shirt and slides up, roaming over her skin, to the place where my knife is secured in the bra holster I made for her. One of the guys’ breath hitches and I can’t wait until I make him stop breathing. I wrap my fingers around the small handle.
Emily wraps her small hand around my forearm, stopping me. I look into her eyes to see a stern look. She knows what I’m thinking, but it won’t change the outcome. I’ve killed the dead for her, and I’ll kill the living for her, too.
“You know what? That’s fine, actually. We were going to head over to the general store next, anyway,” the first man says.
Emily’s eyes widen and I see the panic there. I place a reassuring kiss on her lips.
“We were already there. Place was wiped out. Now it’s filled with dismembered rotters and barely any space to walk. Like I said, the only worthwhile building in this town is this one. That’s why we’re here,” I say, keeping my voice even.
Ponytail steps forward, rubbing his chin. “Seems like you don’t want us here, and you don’t want us over there, either. Must be something worthwhile. Got more girls waiting for you over there or something?”
“That all you care about? A place to warm your cock?”
“Hey, man, it’s been a long apocalypse.”
I tear my gaze away from Emily to look at the two men—wait, two. Where did the large silent one go off to? “Where’s your friend?”
The front door opens, and he strides on in. I tighten my hand on Emily’s hip and slowly slide the knife free from her holster. “He was right. There’s nothing over there other than some first aid supplies. No piles of dismembered rotters, though. Actually, there isn’t a single rotter limb in there.”
If looks could shoot daggers, all of them would be dead. “What else did you find?”
Emily shivers at the coldness in my voice, but I see the growing panic in her eyes. She reaches for her necklace, having the same thoughts as I am.
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” the first man says. He’s pointing a gun at us with one hand, while taking another drink from the bottle in his other. I have confidence that his shot will be awful if he keeps drinking like this. Maybe I should pour him a few extra rounds.
“He found nothing.” William appears in the doorway and holds a knife to the large man’s throat.
“What the hell is this?” the first man yells. “She got you guys by the balls real good, yeah? You gonna play house in this dead town? Must have one hell of a pussy.”
I pull the knife from her bra holster and throw it at the first guy, getting him right through the left eye before throwing myself over Emily. His finger pulls the trigger on impulse and he ends up shooting his own guy before going down, his screams filling the air. Emily pulls the small knife from her necklace and throws it at the ponytail guy, but he moves so she only slices his cheek.
Picking up Emily and setting her on the floor behind the counter where she should be safe, I leap over the bar top, cut off his ponytail, then shove it into his mouth before sticking my knife in his gut. The first man’s screams stop on a gurgle and I glance over to see William taking care of him next, before picking up his gun and inspecting it.
“Hopefully no rotters heard that,” William grumbles, then looks over at Emily with worry. “Are you okay?”
The door to the backroom opens again and I pull the knife from the man’s gut and raise it, but it’s Griffin who enters. I let out a curse, but he ignores me and heads straight for Emily, helping her to her feet.
“You’re still hurt. You shouldn’t be moving this much,” Emily chastises him.
“Good thing I did, or that mountain of a man would have found me before William did. Besides, I’m fine.”
“Your stitches are bleeding,” she argues.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, now let’s get you back over there. I need to clean out your wound and restitch it again.”
William takes over with helping Griffin get back to the general building next door, and I grab Emily’s hand to hold her back. “You really are okay, aren’t you, pet? You weren’t only saying that to not worry him.”
My voice shakes a little when I ask. It surprises me. I know she wasn’t physically hurt, but hurt manifests in ways that no one else sees. This is the first time I’ve been this genuinely worried about someone’s feelings in…a really long time. I don’t understand how to deal with that.
