Electronic Magnetic Pulse – from somewhere in the cosmos.
Or should a massive sell-off happen in the world markets. Or a
nuclear disaster - and that scenario had a side entanglement if it
included a military strike. Survivalist skills would be necessary
in any number of other scenarios that usually involved disrupted
power supplies. Because without electricity, everyone would be
thrust into third-world conditions – or worse - and society would
start to disintegrate.
How rapidly that happened was up to those who
survived.
The entire complex hidden within Rosa’s Bed
& Breakfast had been designed for exactly what occurred the
moment Deandra opened her eyes, after a long stretch that draped
her arms over both sides of her single-sized bed.
Crap.
She was back. Grimm had told her she couldn’t
stay. Despite how she’d fallen asleep in his arms, cocooned in
security and love, exhausted and replete with their second bout of
lovemaking. He’d been totally accurate. It hadn’t remotely been
sex. In fact, everything they said and did was very near love. He’d
still brought her back here. And why?
Because she wasn’t staying with him.
Not until he had his ring on her finger.
It was old-fashioned and that just made it
more wonderful. She’d glowed when he’d said it sometime before
dawn. She probably still did.
Deandra’s skin grazed sheets of finely woven
cotton, but nothing near the 800 or so thread count sheets Grimm
used on his bed. And then the sound of gunfire came through her
window opening, coming in rapid-fire spurts and from more than one
gun.
Her eyes flew wide, and instantly slammed
shut as the slice of light through her window opening pained her.
No. Not just pained. It wounded like a blade was stabbed into each
eye socket. Of all the bad timing. Why did the downsides of Lasik
Surgery have to manifest now?
Deandra rolled, skinning her knees on the
floor as she hunkered beneath the bed. Getting her bearings.
Evaluating. She slit her eyes open, and even that amount of light
hurt. A quick tug brought her backpack from the foot of her bed
into the space beneath it. A moment of shuffling through the
contents got her a pressed powder compact, a tube of lip gloss, and
her dark glasses. Deandra shoved the gloss and compact into the
chest pocket of the extra-large Western shirt she wore. Belted with
what looked like one of his bolo ties. Atop what felt like leggings
worn without underwear. Grimm had dressed her... and she hadn’t
even felt it?
Deandra swiped the moisture gathered in both
eyes, donned the glasses, and squinted at the view.
Whew
.
It wasn’t clear, but she could see. Sort of.
She needed to move to the next phase of any situation: data
gathering. It looked as if Rosa had an excellent staff. They even
kept it dusted beneath the bed. And that was a stupid thing to
notice. It looked to be past noon, the sun working its way toward
late afternoon. She’d slept that long? And the rest of the 2100
Radical Society had let her?
Sounds of another burst of gunfire came
through the window. Then some guttural remarks she couldn’t make
out. They were loud. Masculine. And harsh. Whoever was attacking
the hacienda this time sounded a lot more organized than the coyote
fellow from last night. What she wouldn’t give for her Beretta. It
was probably still sitting on the floorboard of Len’s pickup.
Deandra scooted to the door frame and hugged the side of it before
poking her head out.
The corridor was empty. She raced it, making
very little noise despite moving so quickly it resembled flight.
She’d never run that quickly and silently in her life. And while
that was odd, it wasn’t something she’d turn down at the moment.
The hall hooked left into another hall, took a couple of doglegs to
the right, a right angle turn to the left, and then it spewed her
out into the kitchens. Wondrous smells emanated from every pot,
while the aroma of freshly baking bread mixed in. She hadn’t eaten
since yesterday
Or should a massive sell-off happen in the world markets. Or a
nuclear disaster - and that scenario had a side entanglement if it
included a military strike. Survivalist skills would be necessary
in any number of other scenarios that usually involved disrupted
power supplies. Because without electricity, everyone would be
thrust into third-world conditions – or worse - and society would
start to disintegrate.
How rapidly that happened was up to those who
survived.
The entire complex hidden within Rosa’s Bed
& Breakfast had been designed for exactly what occurred the
moment Deandra opened her eyes, after a long stretch that draped
her arms over both sides of her single-sized bed.
Crap.
She was back. Grimm had told her she couldn’t
stay. Despite how she’d fallen asleep in his arms, cocooned in
security and love, exhausted and replete with their second bout of
lovemaking. He’d been totally accurate. It hadn’t remotely been
sex. In fact, everything they said and did was very near love. He’d
still brought her back here. And why?
Because she wasn’t staying with him.
Not until he had his ring on her finger.
It was old-fashioned and that just made it
more wonderful. She’d glowed when he’d said it sometime before
dawn. She probably still did.
Deandra’s skin grazed sheets of finely woven
cotton, but nothing near the 800 or so thread count sheets Grimm
used on his bed. And then the sound of gunfire came through her
window opening, coming in rapid-fire spurts and from more than one
gun.
Her eyes flew wide, and instantly slammed
shut as the slice of light through her window opening pained her.
No. Not just pained. It wounded like a blade was stabbed into each
eye socket. Of all the bad timing. Why did the downsides of Lasik
Surgery have to manifest now?
Deandra rolled, skinning her knees on the
floor as she hunkered beneath the bed. Getting her bearings.
Evaluating. She slit her eyes open, and even that amount of light
hurt. A quick tug brought her backpack from the foot of her bed
into the space beneath it. A moment of shuffling through the
contents got her a pressed powder compact, a tube of lip gloss, and
her dark glasses. Deandra shoved the gloss and compact into the
chest pocket of the extra-large Western shirt she wore. Belted with
what looked like one of his bolo ties. Atop what felt like leggings
worn without underwear. Grimm had dressed her... and she hadn’t
even felt it?
Deandra swiped the moisture gathered in both
eyes, donned the glasses, and squinted at the view.
Whew
.
It wasn’t clear, but she could see. Sort of.
She needed to move to the next phase of any situation: data
gathering. It looked as if Rosa had an excellent staff. They even
kept it dusted beneath the bed. And that was a stupid thing to
notice. It looked to be past noon, the sun working its way toward
late afternoon. She’d slept that long? And the rest of the 2100
Radical Society had let her?
Sounds of another burst of gunfire came
through the window. Then some guttural remarks she couldn’t make
out. They were loud. Masculine. And harsh. Whoever was attacking
the hacienda this time sounded a lot more organized than the coyote
fellow from last night. What she wouldn’t give for her Beretta. It
was probably still sitting on the floorboard of Len’s pickup.
Deandra scooted to the door frame and hugged the side of it before
poking her head out.
The corridor was empty. She raced it, making
very little noise despite moving so quickly it resembled flight.
She’d never run that quickly and silently in her life. And while
that was odd, it wasn’t something she’d turn down at the moment.
The hall hooked left into another hall, took a couple of doglegs to
the right, a right angle turn to the left, and then it spewed her
out into the kitchens. Wondrous smells emanated from every pot,
while the aroma of freshly baking bread mixed in. She hadn’t eaten
since yesterday
Similar Books
