“But what happens next winter, when you can’t feed all those kids? You think your intentions will mean anything if you’re all starving up there?”
“I think I’d rather help people now and find a way to feed everyone later. If I wanted to hurt your family, don’t you think I would have done it three days ago when I had the chance?”
Armadale’s smile tightened until his lips pulled back from his teeth. His gaze hardened, and I knew I’d made a mistake by pointing out his vulnerability in front of his kids.
“Well, son,” he said with a little sneer as he pushed back his chair and stood, “you’d best go now.”
But I couldn’t go. I couldn’t walk away. Not when I’d come all this way and spent all this time. Not when we needed that ammo so desperately.
I blew out a breath. Time to grovel again. “Mr. Armadale, I’m begging you.”
His gaze softened. “You may have the best intentions right now, but that’s not food in your belly five months from now.”
“I give you my word—”
“It’s not your word I’m worried about. It’s your ability to control all your people. I’m not trusting one boy, I’m trusting hundreds.” He shook his head.
I could feel the chance slipping away. Nothing I could say would convince him. Not because he didn’t believe it was the right thing to do, but because of who I was. Because I wasn’t old enough or man enough to keep control of the people I led. Not because the cause wasn’t good, but because
This trip, the half day I’d wasted, it was all for nothing.
I headed for the door, but then turned and stalked back to the table. I planted my palms on the oak and leaned over so Armadale had to look right at me.
“This is bullshit, and there will come a day when you will regret this.”
“Son, I think you better—”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish, but kept talking over him. “Someday. Someday soon. Because until now, Utah has had it pretty easy. And I know you all think that’s because of the grace of God. You all think that it’s ordained. Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong, but I don’t think so. Because there were a hell of a lot of believers in Texas, and Texas fell. Texas went down fast and hard. And you know why?”
I leaned forward, inches from Armadale’s face. I gave him a solid beat to answer, but he didn’t. He didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.
“Texas fell because of shit like this. It fell because more than half the damn state was armed and because none of them trusted each other. I watched it happen, city by city. I’ve been all over Texas since then. Places where so many people died so quickly there wasn’t even anyone around to bury the bodies. I’ve seen more dead bodies than I can even count. And, yeah, there are plenty of people who had their hearts ripped out by Ticks. But there were way more people who died of gunshot wounds. And it’s because of paranoid shit like this! Because as a race we can’t just put aside our fear and paranoia long enough to fucking help each other out.”
I didn’t wait to see Armadale’s reaction. It didn’t matter anymore. I’d blown it. I’d screwed up. Again.
Not only did I not get the guns we needed, but I’d probably pissed Armadale off enough that I’d blown any uneasy alliance we might have had in the future.
On the bright side, I was leading the Elites into a bloodbath and we probably wouldn’t be back. Maybe— maybe if we were extremely lucky—some of us would make it out. So maybe whoever took over after I left would have more luck with Armadale.
Yeah, that thought was real damn comforting.
I reached the car and yanked the keys out of my pocket. Then I slammed my hand down on the hood, cursing.
“He’s just being stubborn,” said a voice from behind me.
I spun around to see Darren standing maybe ten feet away from me.
The kid grinned. “He makes me want to hit things, too.”
I nodded. “Good to know.”
I didn’t feel any better; that anger still burned inside of me. Hotter even than normal, because of the memories my little rant had pulled up. Stuff I’d seen that I’d done everything in my power to forget. Stuff that stayed with you forever. Because as much as I tried to bury the memories deep, there were things you couldn’t un-see. There were things you couldn’t ever wipe completely from your mind.
I pulled open the driver’s-side door and slid into the car. I was jamming the key in the lock when the passenger door opened and Darren climbed in beside me.
“What the hell—”
“I’m coming with you. If you’ll have me. I know it’s not guns and ammo, but I can fight. And one more guy willing to fight is something, right?”
For a second, all I could do was stare at him in shock. “Absolutely not.”
Because if I hadn’t already pissed Armadale off, kidnapping his son would certainly do the trick.
“I’m strong and I’m fast. And I’m a damn good shot.”
“And your dad would come up my mountain and kick my ass from here to Sunday if I take you away from him.”
“I’m seventeen,” Darren said. “I can make my own decisions.”
Seventeen? Jesus when had I gotten so old that kids a year younger than I seemed like . . . well, kids?
I slanted him a look. “Seventeen? Really?”
Darren met my gaze steadily for a moment. Then his eyes wavered and he looked away. “Okay, sixteen, but I’ll be seventeen in four weeks.”
“Oh. Four weeks. That’ll be such comfort later today, when your father is beating the crap out of me.” Shaking my head, I just said, “Get out of the car and get your butt back in your house.”
Before I could say anything more, the passenger-side back door opened and Dawn slid in.
I spun around in the seat to look at her. “What the—”
“I’m coming, too.”
“No. Abso-effing-lutely not.”
Dawn grinned at me. “If Darren can come, then so can—”
“Darren can’t come. Neither of you are coming. Get the hell out of my car.”
Darren turned in his seat and held out his knuckles for a fist bump from his sister.
Dawn gave him the bump. She had several bags with her in addition to a bulky coat, and got situated while she talked. “If you’re worried that Dad won’t let us leave, you shouldn’t be. He has to let us go.”
“No, he doesn’t. I have a handgun in the glove box, your father has a freakin’ armory—I’m guessing here, so correct me if I’m wrong.” I raised my eyebrows, waiting, but neither of the kids said anything, so I went on. “And we’re on his turf. Just because I haven’t seen anyone else in town, that doesn’t mean there’s not a dozen guys with rifles pointed at me right now. So would you please get your asses out of my car?”
“Hear us out,” Dawn said.
“Yeah, give us a chance!”
Dawn gave Darren’s head a little slap. “Let me do the talking.”
Darren shrugged with a grin.
“He’s not going to stop us,” Dawn said. “If he was, he would have already.”
Okay, so she had a point. Armadale could have blown me to bits by now.
I twisted in my seat to look out the front window, half expecting to see Armadale standing there, gun in his hand. Since he wasn’t, I blew out a breath and strangled the steering wheel with my fists.
I looked back at Dawn. “I didn’t come here to recruit you. I came here to convince your father to help.”
Her mouth tilted up. “You did convince him. You think he’d have let us get this far if you hadn’t?” She shrugged. “He has the littles to take care of. He can’t come himself, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t make your point.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. I shot a look at Darren and Dawn. What the hell was I getting myself into?
As if she sensed I was swaying, Dawn leaned forward. “I’m assuming Darren told you what a good shot he is. He’s really the best in the whole family. And you already know I have most of my nurses’ training.”
Which, I had to admit, would be useful as hell.
