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Chapter Seventeen

MALLORY

T he crackle of the fire and the crickets chirping are oddly peaceful. Who knew I’d turn into an outdoorsy girl? Well, I wouldn’t classify myself as outdoorsy, but I’m trying here. I’m sitting between Maverick’s spread thighs, my head back against his chest, his back against a fallen log. We didn’t walk too much farther after we entered Georgia. I insisted that I could walk farther, but Maverick could see straight through to how tired I really was. We veered off to the right and into the dense trees, finding a small clearing where Mav set up camp. I tried to help him with the tent, but it ended up in such a jumbled mess that he sent me out to collect branches and twigs for the fire. I aced that assignment though, no problem; seeing his eyes light up with pride and surprise when he saw me come back through the trees with my arms full of dead branches made the good girl in me purr. After the fire was going strong, he pulled out some cans of soup from his pack and set them by the fire, then tugged me into his lap. His hands have been combing through my hair for the last several minutes, and I’m almost on the edge of sleep when he nudges me to scoot over so he can grab the cans with a sock-covered hand. Pulling the tabs on the cans, he hands me one along with a spoon.

The smell of beef stew assaults my nose, and the smell is so scrumptious I let out a moan, my stomach growling in response. A few weeks ago I would have wrinkled my nose at this, and requested something else, but not today. I start shoving the food into my mouth, burning my tongue in the process, but it doesn't stop me from continuing. “Mmm, this is so good!” I say, around a spoonful of stew. “What is this? And please tell me you have more in that magic pack of yours!”

“It’s just some random stew I found in the hunting store. I think the label said Dinty Moore on it before I tossed it in the fire.” The chuckle that leaves his chest tells me that he’s never been around someone who gets this excited about all these little things. “And yes, I did grab a few more things of this, so I’m glad that you like it.” He says as he leans over and wipes some gravy from the corner of my mouth. We continue to eat in silence, well, as quietly as I can be when I’m shoveling this stew in my mouth like I’ve never eaten before. Maverick seems to be lost in thought while he eats, staring at the fire. The glow illuminates his strong jaw and thick beard that has grown from lack of shaving. His straight nose and long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks every time that he blinks. Why is it that men always have nice eyelashes? The lines around his eyes are the only thing that actually gives away that he’s not in his early twenties. Come to think of it, I don’t think he ever told me how old he really was. That thought is the domino that tips them all over, questions racing at top speed through my mind about who this man really is. I mentally scold myself for being too distracted by his prince charming hero act to really get to know him. I place the empty beef stew can down next to me along with the spoon. My hands drop into my lap, and my fingers twiddle at the same speed that my thoughts are racing right now.

“Go ahead and ask what question has you so worked up, Mallory.” How does he always know what I’m feeling before I know what I’m even feeling?

“There’s more than one question.” I decide that is the safest answer, giving me more time to think about what questions to ask him.

“Go ahead then.” He says, nodding his head and setting his now empty can of stew down on the other side of him. His knees come up to his chest, thighs spread, hands splayed across his knees, and head tilted back onto the log, eyes glued to the starry sky.

“Are you a killer?” I blurt out then slam my hands across my lips. That is so not what I wanted to ask first.

“Yes, next question.” The shock in my gasp must be apparent as he swings his head and eyes towards me. Deep down I knew he was a killer, because not just any person can kill that many zombies at once all by themselves. He lets out a deep sigh. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t think I wasn’t one. Fuck, I killed those douchebags who had you without even blinking.” My hands drift back down to my lap, mulling over the words he just spoke to me so nonchalantly.

“Tell me.” The resolve in my voice is enough for him to start spilling all his secrets.

“I worked for a man who ran a trafficking ring. I was the one they called when they needed someone disposed of.” His eyes are blank, and the careless way that he says it sends shivers down my spine.

“So you’re saying you were what, a human exterminator? Who exactly were you told to kill?”

“Pretty much, and I killed whoever they wanted me to. A client who didn’t pay? Okay, done. A woman who wouldn’t fall in line? Yep, got it.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders and no remorse in his eyes. My heart rate speeds up with the seriousness of my situation right now and how damn stupid I was to just go with him willingly.

“So you just… killed whoever they wanted you to with no questions asked? What if it was a little girl?” My screech echoes through the trees, and I jump to my feet. He meets my eyes and rises slowly to stand before me, peering down at me with a cold gaze.

“If it was for the right price, then yes.” His I don’t give a fuck shrug sends me over the edge, and I push him back, but of course he doesn’t even budge.

“What if they ordered you to kill me, then what?” I pound my fists against his chest, and his eyes roll in their sockets.

“Never. You’re different, Mallory, and you know it.” His words should comfort me, but they don’t.

“Am I the only one? Or do you usually have a different flavor each week?” I cross my arms and pop my hip out to the side, glaring at him.

“There was one before you, but I ended up killing her just the same.”

“What was her name?” My response comes out soft as my mind whirls with the possibilities.

“Aspen… she was with me for several months until she turned, and I shot her in the head and left her to burn in my house.” His emotionless eyes swing towards the fire, and his lack of attention towards this serious situation irritates me.

“Y-you just shot her and left her for d-dead?” I try my best not to stutter, but the words come out choppy anyway.

“Yeah, that's typically what you do with a zombie.” He says as he picks up a stick and stokes the fire as he speaks.

“How did she turn? What was she like? Why did you keep her that long? Will you keep me for a few months then get rid of me the same way?” All of the questions spill out like uncontrollable vomit.

“Slow the fuck down and take a breath. She turned from some contaminated medication. She was… a slave. Nothing like you at all. I didn’t feel anything towards her like I do with you.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.” Fear of his response since he avoided the question the first time makes my heart rate spike again, goosebumps rippling over my skin.

“I won’t answer it, because I can’t promise you that I won’t kill you in the end. But if it gives you comfort, then just know I won’t kill you just because I’m done with you. There will be a good reason if I need to.” He continues to stoke the fire, adding a few more branches to the flames. It in fact does not give me comfort. Knowing that I've been sleeping next to a cold-blooded killer and giving him my virginity has me feeling ashamed and like I need to puke my guts out.

“I need to pee.” I announce to his side profile and don’t even wait for him to answer. I walk into the trees until I can barely see the flicker of the fire and his shadow looming beyond. I relieve myself, and then I move towards a tree and slide down it to sit at the base of it. Hugging my knees to my chest and looking up at the stars, I contemplate how I ended up in this mess. I went from head cheerleader to slumming it in the forest with a killer; my mom would be so thrilled, I think with heavy sarcasm. I sit in the darkness by myself until my ass falls asleep. Not once did Maverick come to check on me. I think he took the hint that I needed some space.

I have no idea what I’m going to do now. Do I stick with Maverick to save my own skin? Or do I put on my big girl panties and leave him? Each option comes with various pros and cons, and my head starts to hurt while I mull them over. God, I wish Rue and Noah were here. They would know what to do in this situation. They always have the answers and know what to do. It makes me anxious knowing I’m all alone out here and have to make this decision myself. I frantically try to remember what Rue would tell me to do as I reminisce about the lazy nights we spent together. I can vaguely hear her voice mocking me and telling me to get far away from this man. But it honestly scares me shitless thinking about being on my own during all of this.

I heave out a sigh, pushing myself to my feet, and walk back towards the campfire with my painful decision looming at the front of my brain. Maverick is perched on the log; his head swings towards me as I walk back into the clearing. I stop next to the log, debating on if I should sit and talk to find out more about him, but I just don’t have it in me. “I’m going to bed.” I don’t wait for him to respond, and I head into the tent, zipping the flap behind me. I root through my pack and make sure it’s ready to go, and solidify my hasty plan. I slide under my new sleeping bag Maverick snagged for me and arrange it over the top of me so he can’t tell that I’m still fully dressed. I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer that I can pull this off, but I’m not too confident because honestly, running away from an ex-hitman is kinda stupid. Especially one who is utterly obsessed with you.

Maverick stays outside for so long that I’m about to throw my plan out the window and go to sleep, but then the zipper of the tent slowly opens. I brace myself and keep my eyes closed, trying to control my breathing as much as possible. He slides into the sleeping bag next to me, and within a few minutes his soft snores are slipping through his lips. How the hell does he fall asleep so fast? I wait until I’m positive he won’t wake up before I slip out from under the sleeping bag. His face is slack and peaceful; I almost feel guilty for leaving him here like this. I steel myself and crawl quietly to my pack, swinging it over my shoulders. I look back longingly at my sleeping bag, feeling sad that I will have to leave it behind, but there's no way I’ll be able to get it out of this tent without waking him up. I managed to get the tent's zipper open enough to crawl out. I’m too scared to try to zip it back up without waking him, so I just turn and run like hell. I have no idea where I’m going, and it’s dark as fuck out here with no flashlight. I scold myself for not thinking this plan all the way through, but I keep going anyway. My boots pound against the hard ground, crushing leaves and sticks in their wake. My chest burns with the exertion that I haven’t used in weeks, but I ignore it, determined to get as far away from Maverick as possible.