His fingertips gently grazed my cheek. “You’re my ride or die, Mackenzie Dunwitty.”
I swallowed, overcome with emotion. In the worst of times—when the survival of humanity hung in the balance—life brought me the greatest gift. This man. This love. Hope for the future. If I didn’t get a grip I was going to sink to the floor and bawl like a baby. Instead, I tapped his cut over the pocket that held my necklace. “Does that mean I can have my Property of Ripper necklace back?”
“Damn straight you can have it back.” Ripper pulled the necklace from his pocket and fastened it around my neck. “Don’t ever want to see it off your neck again. You’re mine and I want the world to know it.”
I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.
“I’ll be right back,” Libby called from the end of the hall.
Ripper threaded his fingers through my hair and kissed me, molding his body against mine.
Don’t mind us. We’re busy making out.
Libby’s footsteps sounded her approach. “I’m glad to see you guys made up.” Ripper and I pulled apart and turned our heads toward her. “The baby is pressing on my bladder and I have to pee.” With a wave, she disappeared into the bedroom she shared with Boyd, three doors up the hall.
“C’mon.” Ripper pulled me into our bedroom and locked the door behind us.
Nyx was sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bed. She jumped up when we entered, ran over to us, and hugged me. “Damn girl, I owe you. You two saved my ass from those shitheads. I’m just sorry that things got ugly out there between you two.”
I returned the hug. “No worries. I wouldn’t wish Dwight and Darryl on my worst enemy. I’m glad we could help. It looked ugly, but Ripper and I were just playacting.”
Nyx touched my necklace. “So I see. Oh, and about the red smears all over his face...” She pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket. “Secondhand. I swear to God I didn’t put my mouth on him.”
I touched her arm. “I trust my man. It’s all good.”
Nyx flopped back onto the bed. “God damn, what a day. Kidnapped by freaking Nazis. Fuuuck.” She groaned, sat back up, and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “Ripper told me what’s going on. Count me in.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Ripper
I hooked one arm around Nyx’s waist and the other around Mac’s neck, then we strolled into the kitchen the following morning. Three pairs of eyes swung our way. Jerrilyn smirked. Tuck lifted his brows, and Darryl frowned, clearly still pissed that I’d swiped Nyx out from under his nose.
I gave an exaggerated yawn. Hey, what man wouldn’t be worn out after a night spent servicing two hot women? I grinned at Darryl, then slid my hand inside Mac’s tank top. My fingers dipped below the lace trim on her red bra and traced the curve of her breast.
“Morning, Darryl,” I said. “How’d you sleep?”
He snorted and stomped out of the room.
“Is coffee ready?” Nyx echoed my yawn. “After last night, we all could use a pick-me-up.”
Jerrilyn scowled. “We need to get one thing straight, missy. Everybody pulls their weight around here. You don’t get to sashay out of the bedroom and expect to be waited on hand and foot. You make the damned coffee.”
Nyx tilted her head. “I don’t get it. If everybody pulls their weight, how come one of you didn’t make coffee?” She frowned, her tone innocent and her voice more bewildered than defiant. “Why is it up to me?”
“I’ll make coffee,” Mac dashed toward the stove. She glanced back at Jerrilyn, smiling apologetically at the queen bee. “Nyx doesn’t understand how we do things. Libby and I will teach her.”
“See that you do,” Jerrilyn huffed.
Mac glanced at Nyx. “Nyx, do you take sugar in yours?”
“The sweeter the better,” Nyx said, winking.
If we had scripted it, this conversation couldn’t have gone better. Mac might have thrown a hissy fit at the party last night, but it was clear now to everybody that I’d curbed her little rebellion, and she was on board with a threesome. My good-natured, obedient old lady was back. I bit back a grin. Yeah. Let them believe that.
Mac, Nyx, and I took our coffee onto the porch, where the three of us squeezed onto the wooden swing. The boards creaked, and the chains suspending the swing from the joist protested. I planted both feet on the floorboards, preventing the swing from swaying. I set my empty cup on the porch and slung one arm around Mac’s shoulders and the other around Nyx. Mac snuggled against my chest and Nyx placed a hand on my thigh.
Boyd joined us on the porch. “That thing wasn’t meant for three people,” he observed, leaning against the railing.
I shrugged. “We’ll make it work.”
He studied me over the rim of his coffee cup. “So everything’s good?”
“Yeah. We reached an understanding.”
The screen door flew open, striking the siding. Dwight and Darryl clomped onto the porch, their heavy steps telegraphing their unhappiness. Darryl whispered something in his brother’s ear, then both men fixed me with a stink eye.
I ignored them.
“Libby is up and is making breakfast,” Dwight said.
“That’s your cue,” I said to my women. Mac jumped up, dropped a kiss on my cheek, and skipped past Dwight and Darryl.
Nyx slowly stood and stretched, arching her back like a cat. “Later, lover,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at me before disappearing into the house.
“You two score anything good in town?” Boyd asked. “Besides Nyx?”
Darryl glared at his cousin. “Not much. The grocery store and the pharmacy were picked clean. We checked out a bunch of houses. Found some canned food and booze, some clothes. One place had disposable diapers, jars of baby food, baby clothes. That stuff’s in the trunk.”
“No weapons or ammo?” Boyd asked.
“Nope.” Darryl shook his head.
Dwight turned to his brother and punched him on the upper arm. “Hey, remember? We were going to tell Boyd about the gunfire.”
“Gunfire?” Boyd straightened up and set his mug on the railing. “What gunfire?”
“About halfway back from town, we had the windows on the pickup rolled down and we heard a pop-pop-pop noise. We pulled over to listen and heard it again.”
“I thought at first that it was fireworks,” Darryl added. “But Dwight said it sounded more like somebody shooting a gun.”
“And it just occurred to you morons to mention that you heard gunfire nearby?” Boyd threw his hands in the air. “You didn’t think that it might be important that there are strangers with guns in the area?”
“We were thinking about Nyx,” Darryl mumbled, sounding like a twelve year old offering a piss-poor excuse for not doing his homework.
“Unbelievable,” Boyd said. “Do you at least remember where you pulled over?”
“Yeah. Just past the yellow farmhouse next to that big red barn with an American flag painted on the side.”
“Where’s that?” I asked Boyd.
“About ten miles from here, on the main road into town,” Boyd answered.