Justice (16 page)

“He’s the one I brought in, the one with the kids.” I looked at the unconscious biker. He looked so much younger asleep. We were in the makeshift infirmary that Melinda and Isaiah had put up quickly. I was curious about what this guy had, since I had spent a few hours with him, I didn’t want to come down with anything if it was contagious.

“You mentioned he didn’t fight you, no resistance?” Blake asked incredulously.
 

“Yeah, in fact the kids defended him, called him a good guy, but that’s not saying much considering what they were dealing with. Lesser evil, that sort of thing”. Poche and Blake stepped out of the infirmary and I followed, not wanting to get in the way of the doctor and his capable nurse.

“I don’t want to waste precious resources on him. No one is making antibiotics anymore, we have to protect the supply we have. Use them only in an emergency and on patients that are most deserving of them, it’s a common triage practice,” Tammi Ryan said coldly. “So, we save this man, to only put him to death in a few short weeks? How is that logical?”
 

“He hasn’t been found guilty yet, Tammi,” Poche said softly. “Of all of them, there have only been two that the civilians have spoken positively about. Him and one called Jazz.”
 

“He’s not like the rest of them.” Melinda shared as she stepped out of the infirmary tent, pulling off latex gloves and sticking them in her pockets. If anyone knew about these men it was Melinda. She had helped Lex escape from them and had spent months in their captivity before that.
 

“But, he’s still one of them. I just can’t trust anyone wearing one of those patches,” Ryan said stubbornly.
 

“Just keep it in mind, before you start giving execution orders,” Melinda said quietly but firmly.
 

“I want him under constant watch, I don’t want him coming to and taking out one of my men,” Ryan fired back. “And I don’t want to waste medical supplies on someone undeserving!”

“Well, too late, I’ve already hooked him up to an antibiotic drip. You’ll have to find some other person to kill,” Melinda hissed.
 

“When he wakes up and takes out one of our men, or you, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ryan’s tone was hard.
 

“I’ll guard him,” I spoke up and almost instantly regretted it.
What the hell was I agreeing to do?

“Fine, he’s your problem.” Ryan walked out and Poche followed.
 

“Thanks, Baby, I appreciate this,” Melinda said and her eyes widened when she realized she used my nickname. I let it slide, I was getting soft.

THIRTY-TWO | I'm Up

I was dreaming about my captor, the cute blonde that wanted to shoot me. We were in a hallway that never ended and we were trying to find our way out, but it was a pointless task. We ran and ran, forever it seemed, but we never reached the end.
 

“Stop,” she screamed and I did as she ordered. I liked when she ordered me around, but I would never admit that. Only in a dream.
 

“This way.” She took my hand and I followed her. We turned in a new direction and there was a door,
finally
.

My eyes sprung open and they were finally clear. I was in a tent, some large white tent and there were a few cots next to me. I looked to my right and noticed a guy I didn’t know, probably from the Army group. He was sleeping and hooked up to an IV. There was a nasty looking bandage across his face with a red blood stain seeping through it.
 

I was obviously in a makeshift hospital, most likely still at the base. I had been sick. I remembered the fever, I had been burning up and dizzy.
 

“Oh, you’re up.” A familiar face came into view.
 

“Melinda,” I croaked.
 

“Rebel, you look terrible,” she laughed and placed a palm on my forehead. “But, no more fever.” She brought a cup with a straw to my lips.
 

“It’s water. Drink.”
 

I greedily sucked the water down until I almost choked.
 

“Whoa, boy!” She pulled the straw away from my lips and sat the cup down.
 

“Perfect timing to get the flu.” She smiled to lighten the blow of her words.
 

“Is that what’s wrong with me? I’ve never passed out because of the flu before.”
 

“Yeah, well, you’ve never had the flu during an apocalypse. The flu, a terrible diet, sleep deprivation, and a ridiculous amount of stress - makes for one deadly combination. We’ve had a few others come down with it, you were the worst, though.”

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” I said. I didn’t know a lot about Melinda. It wasn’t like we talked a lot, but she did spend a lot of time with me, before she escaped and brought the Army down on us.
 

“A nurse,” she corrected.
 

“Even better,” I said.
 

“Always the charmer, Rebel.” She smiled and slipped her hand into mine.
 

“I’m glad you got out, Melinda,” I said with honesty. Even if she did come back with the Army. Whatever fate had in store for me, I was glad that this place had been taken down. It had been a long time coming.

“Now, it’s your turn,” she whispered.
 

“I’m not going to try and escape,” I said when her meaning sunk in. Was she going to help me escape? Was that what she was hinting at?

“They plan on trying all of you, in some kind of court. The leaders will have a representative, along with two reps from the civilians. If you are found guilty, it’s a death sentence. They don’t really expect anyone to be found not guilty. They were going to hold back your antibiotics, let you die. I can’t help you if you stay, Rebel, this is the only way. While she’s sleeping…” She jutted her chin indicating something to the left of me. I turned my head and there she was. My captor. She was asleep on the cot next to me. Her features were relaxed, her full lips parted in sleep. She was beautiful, even with her face smeared with a bit of dirt and still wearing her black war gear.

“Well, I guess I have to prove them wrong, show them I’m not guilty,” I said with more confidence than I felt, still staring at Hannah. I didn’t think that was possible, though. Heather had said it perfectly:
culpable
. That was me to a tee, culpable. If nothing else, I was responsible for aiding the group and helping them get away with their crimes.
 

Hannah’s eyes twitched in sleep and I turned back to Melinda. She was frowning at me, as if she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.
 

“Rebel, you don’t belong with the rest of these men. I never understood why you were one of them to begin with.” She shook her head and fussed with the IV hooked to me.
 

“Life is funny that way.” My eyes were getting heavy. The flu was obviously still causing havoc in my system.
 

“I threw away your vest,” she said. “You don’t belong with them.”

“They’ll kill me,” I said tiredly. And they would. I wasn’t sad about my cut, but if the brothers saw me without it, I was as good as dead. Technically it didn’t belong to me, it belonged to the club. Losing it was a big deal and with my already compromised position, it wouldn’t be good. Melinda thought she was helping me, but she might have ushered in my death a bit earlier than we both thought.
 

“That’s not going to happen,” she whispered, right before sleep took me again.
 

THIRTY-THREE | Giving it Up For the Coffee

I awoke well-rested. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into warm brown ones. He had turned on his side in his small cot. His IV was gone and he laid there looking at me.
 

I sat up and placed my boots on the ground. If he was conscious, he could have gotten one over on me while I slept. I didn’t usually let my guard down like that. I must have been tired. I was supposed to be guarding him.

“Morning,” he said in a cracked whisper. His throat obviously still sore from the flu.
 

I responded with a gruff sound and stood to stretch my legs. I was uncomfortable with the fact that I had slept so hard, but I felt good and rested.

Rebel and Melinda’s hushed conversation about escape woke me earlier, and his insistence that he wasn’t leaving had reassured me. I had a compliant captive on my hands, but that wasn’t a reason to get lax. Anything could have happened, not only Rebel escaping.
 

“Not a morning person, are you?” he said, his voice stronger.
 

“I need coffee to be a morning person, and this place is seriously lacking in caffeine.”

“I know where it’s hidden,” he said and smiled around his secret.
 

“We’ve searched this place high and low. We’ve found all of the hidden stores. No coffee.”

“Bet you didn’t find this one and I know there’s coffee, I put it there myself,” he said and I frowned at him.
Why was he being so helpful? What was his angle?
Trust didn’t come easily for me.
 

“I’m finding Melinda, if she says it’s okay, you’re getting me that coffee.” I stretched and noticed his eyes trailing up and down my body.
So, that was his angle.
Thought I was hot, or something, and wanted to please me to make me more pliable. I could work with that. I wouldn’t do anything to dissuade his attraction. If he thought I was attainable and it would keep him in check, I was more than willing to let him keep believing he had a chance.
 

I found if you gave guys a bit of hope that they could get in your pants, it kept them on track. You cut them off, gave them no chance, then they got aggressive and hostile. Granted, it was a fine line. If you gave them too much hope, they became pests. Like Duke Nuñez. He was still bothering the crap out of me and all I did was let him do me a few favors. I didn’t like to play games, but I would if it made my life easier. I had learned that trick in the military. You were automatically a second-class citizen going in as a female, especially in special-ops. Most of the females were either hard-nosed bitches, or they turned into sluts because they had their choice of men. I liked to ride somewhere in the middle, but as the tours got longer, and the shit got deeper, I found I was slowly turning into a person I didn’t recognize. Too hard. Too jaded. It’s why I got out of the military and hooked up with MJ Security.
 

I went to the make-shift latrine and cleaned up. They had set up a hose with clean water for washing and I managed to half-ass brush my teeth. Finger and toothpaste, fantastic.
 

I found Melinda at Rebel’s side after I had searched for ten minutes for her. I tried to hide my aggravation. I really wanted that coffee.
 

“He’s good to go. Where are you putting him?” she asked with Rebel sitting up from the bed, ready to leave the infirmary.
 

“We’ll go get those supplies and then I’ll put him back with the other prisoners.”

“Is there any way you can keep him separate?” she asked me.
 

“Where else would I put him, Melinda?” I asked curiously.
 

“I don’t know. He’ll be fine, he said he won’t try and escape, so maybe with the civilian men.” We had brought the civilian men into the main area, out of the elements, and the soldiers and troopers had moved into the offices above. The women had relocated to the gym with the children, some of the men joining them if they were family.