Chapter Four
The Pack
Spring came late. Jake found sign five miles out. Lucy learned the rifle and pistol. On the bear rug his hand moved over her hip and the underside of one heavy breast while he sipped whiskey, and she got wet before he even slid a finger between her legs.
The friends arrived in May.
Matt, former SAS, Scottish-hillbilly voice. Shuck, Special Forces from Kentucky. Harold, Ranger from Brooklyn. All younger than Jake, none more than sixteen years behind him. Grizzled. Rough.
They looked at her like they could already feel her. Comments came unfiltered—her breasts, her ass, those long legs. Jake put a line down. They stepped half an inch back and kept staring. Lucy felt her nipples tighten under the shirt and hated how much she liked it.
They fortified the stronghold and watched the north.