She catapulted over the edge into a climax, arching her back. Breaking the kiss, she moaned loudly, wrapped around him.
He stood without removing her and walked across the room. Planting one hand on the wall while he held her under the ass, he placed her back against the wall. Her neck bowed, needing to see him.
He looked back at her and thrust into her. Once. Twice. Three times.
He closed his eyes as a quiver rolled through him. Inside of her, his cock pulsed, seeming to grow as he came.
Breathing raggedly, her head fell forward onto his shoulder. That was...that was... more than she'd expected.
Her lips curved against his skin, and she continued to hold on to him, not wanting the bubble created around them to pop and for reality to trespass into what they'd done.
Chapter Twenty One
Keenan stood on the bank of the St. Joe River beside the dilapidated houseboat, staring at the water, rushing over the rocks. He'd searched the whole town for Prez.
The only place he hadn't looked was in the old houseboat. Years ago, Prez had stayed for a few weeks on the water while the Alpha Bio Project remodeled his home after a tree fell on his roof during a rough winter storm.
It was the last place he could think of searching for his president.
He walked onto the dock, avoiding the rotten boards. The place was barely livable. It wasn't even in good enough shape to rent out to the fishermen who visited Avery Falls.
Reaching the side, he tried the door handle. Finding it locked, he knocked.
Tilting his head, he listened for any noise inside and paid attention to any extra rocking under his feet as the houseboat shifted with the current. "Anyone here?"
He walked around the corner and stopped. The narrow walkway was half-rotted or missing altogether in spots. Going back to the door, he knocked again. "Prez?"
The door swung open, and Prez turned away from him and stood by the window, facing the river, bringing a bottle of whiskey to his lips.
Keena inhaled deeply. The aroma inside got him high off the fumes alone.
Before the switch grabbed hold of the members, he'd told Prez to remove all alcohol, drugs, weapons, and guns. He wanted no one to have access to an easy out.
He shoved his hands into his vest pockets to keep the tremors from being around the available alcohol hidden from his president. Within the project, he was at his strongest. Anywhere near alcohol, and he was the weakest in the room.
When he'd gone through the switch in the cabin alone, he would've killed himself if he would've had anything handy to get the job done. A stash of alcohol was paradise to him. A hell of a good way to go.
He stepped inside and shut the door with his boot. The current of the water gently rocked the houseboat.
The cramped ten feet by ten feet room had seen no improvements over the years. He ran his gaze over the dust on the table, scribbled markings wiping the surface clean.
Crates of alcohol stacked in the corner grabbed his attention. In Prez's condition, he wouldn't even notice if Keenan joined him in drinking away their pain.
He swallowed hard. Man, he would've given anything to have the supplies available to him while he stayed in the cabin.
"How many survived?" said Prez, taking another drink.
At this stage in the switch, Prez should be feeling the effects of the alcohol. He wondered how long he'd been drinking.
"We've lost five so far. It's not over by a long shot." He approached the window and stood beside Prez. "I've been searching for you. This was the last place I had to look."
Prez pointed out the window. Keenan gazed across the river. The clubhouse sat in the distance. Prez had a straight view and still oversaw his men, even from far away.
"They're my men. I should be there," said Prez.
"You need to take care of yourself first. Afterward, they'll need you." Keenan inhaled deeply.
"When does it end?"
It would be easy to give him hope. But any warnings or help would only confuse him more. He cupped his jaw and ran his hand down his beard. His body vibrated. He wanted a fucking drink.
"The worst of it will happen in the next couple of days. After that, it's learning how to live with yourself." He exhaled harshly.
The ramifications of learning his past never eased. For the last year, he'd suffered. Some days—the days he hunted for food, he could distract himself. But at night, the dreams plagued him. The ghosts visited. The screams coming from him had chilled his bones and left him a shivering mess.
Prez took another drink. "Are we all the same? Did we all come from the same lifestyle?"
He shook his head. "From what I'm learning, listening to the others, our pasts are different but similar in pain."
Prez thunked the bottle down on the window ledge. "Why the hell did they save us?"
That was a question that constantly bothered him. At first, he believed those in charge of the Alpha Bio Project took the lowest of the low because they were a no-loss way to test their drugs. They couldn't make them into any more of a monster than they already were before they were pulled out of their lives and put into Avery Falls.
If the training killed them, they'd be doing a public service and saving taxpayers money.
And if they succeeded, the program created killers with no conscience, no emotions, no faults. Most of all, each participant remained loyal to the end.
Even now, after the switch, the brotherhood held strong. It was the only thing that helped him through the days, knowing he wasn't alone. He had a family waiting for him.
A fucked up family, but no one was in a better position than him, and he was no worse off than anyone else.
"I don't know," he murmured. "I've tried to figure it out on my own, and the only thing I can come up with is they ditched the project and left us behind, probably believing we'd kill ourselves off, one by one."
"We can't let that happen." Prez turned to him. "I'd give everything away to drown myself in the bottle and not wake up, but relief doesn't come. I've tried. No matter how many fucking bottles I go through, my mind doesn't shut off. It keeps playing over the same thing."
A group of tourists floated the river in a raft. He stared after them. He shared Prez's experience and understood the hopelessness.
"I'm growing angrier, and the one thing I hold on to is the fact we have one hundred and twenty men who have the ability to take out each of the motherfuckers who did this to us if we stay together."
"We wouldn't know who to go after or where to find them." He toed a loose board on the floor of the houseboat. "They destroyed everything when they set off the charges inside the tunnel, collapsing everything. I've gone up there. It'd take months to dig our way in and see if there is anything left. As you know, the handler always took his papers with him when he left."
"It's worth a shot," murmured Prez.
Since Prez was sane and holding his own, he said, "I had a visit from Four the other night."
"Impossible." Prez frowned. "He was inside the cave, locked in a cell."
"Apparently, not." He leaned his hip against the window ledge. "I came home and found him beating the shit out of Grace."
"Grace?"
"The woman who discovered me in the cabin."