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  He carried her not to the shower room, but to the small private room he’d claimed for himself. Once it had been meant for brides getting ready for their wedding; now it contained several crates he used for his belongings and a narrow pallet. There he laid her down while they kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Her mouth felt swollen from the constant pressure of his lips on hers.

  He stripped her clothes, then his, without leaving her mouth for more than a few seconds. He had her bare beneath him in a minute or two. His hands found all the places on her he’d learned over the past few months.

  Lira was no longer certain she could believe in God, not with the world the way it had become, but she had seen miracles firsthand, more than once. This pleasure Anthony created with his mouth and hands and body against hers—that was a miracle. That even when she was worn-out from terror, exhausted from fighting and running, her body could still be made to feel so good, was a blessing.

  And also a curse.

  Swept up in the spasms of desire coursing through her, Lira gave herself up to Anthony’s touch. His kisses, always his kisses. When he pushed inside her, she held him close. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. They moved together.

  “You fit me just right.” The words slipped out of her on a murmur.

  Anthony shuddered and buried his face in her neck. At the press of his teeth on the soft flesh, Lira arched. She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She lost herself in him, this time not as release.

  This time, as salvation.

  Her climax rolled over her in waves, and she rode them. With her fingers locked in his hair, she pulled him closer. She breathed in as he breathed out. He filled her in every way.

  She said his name, over and over as she came. She laughed with it, helpless not to in what she realized suddenly was joy. Pure and unfettered, her laughter was as much a release as her orgasm. It lifted her high, and when she came down, floating slowly, Anthony was right there with her.

  Nothing was attractive in the bright white light of his LED lantern, but Lira couldn’t be roused enough to care about how the shadows carved her up into pieces or emphasized the parts of her she’d rather have kept hidden. She kissed him again with him still inside her, then found his shoulder with her lips when he rolled onto his side next to her.

  Anthony put his hand on her belly and kissed her mouth. He lingered. When he pulled away, he put a finger to her chin and tipped her head to one side, then the other. He traced her collarbones. He touched what she knew must be a pattern of bruises on her skin.

  “I was sure you weren’t coming back.”

  She touched his face. “But I did. But, Anthony . . . we have to get out of here. Today. This morning. We have to move—”

  Before she could tell him why, a muffled series of shouts rang in the corridor outside. The door to his room flew open. Candace was there, holding a camping lantern high.

  Lira didn’t even bother with the sheet as she sat. “Is it Heather? What’s going on?”

  “No. It’s not Heather.” Candace’s eyes glittered, her mouth wide. Her gaze skittered over Anthony’s naked backside, lingering in a way Lira would’ve laughed at if she wasn’t so busy trying to figure out why Candace was bursting in.

  Lira got out of bed. She thought she had an idea of the reason for Candace’s dismay. “What’s going on?”

  Candace’s gaze darted back and forth before settling on Lira, still naked. “It’s a man. From outside. He says he knows you.”

  Chapter Four

  MAC LOOKED TOO big in the dining hall. Too broad. Nervous energy crackled off him, almost visible in the dining room’s harsh yellow overhead light. He was surrounded by the rabbi and Candace. Heather stood in the corner, hands on her huge belly, eyes wide, with Danny and John flanking her. Danny had a golf club and John a baseball bat. They all looked terrified.

  “Mac!”

  He turned, gaze taking in Anthony beside her. “Lira. You all need to move. Now. They’re into downtown already. Street by street, but they’ll be here within hours. We need to keep ahead of them. Get across the bridge.”

  “What’s he talking about?” asked Rabbi Cohen. “Who is this?”

  “Mac. Jason Macnamara,” he offered.

  “You’re a soldier, son?”

  Mac shook his head. “Not anymore. They’re coming through with guns and fire and gas. Reclaiming the city.”

  “From the undead?” the rabbi said.

  Mac shook his head, giving Lira a look. “No, sir. From everything inside it. If you all don’t get out of here, you’re going to be killed along with everything else.”

  Anthony’s hand had been resting on her shoulder. Now he stepped forward. “What do we need to do?”

  Mac looked at him, his gaze sliding over Lira without locking on her. “Take only what you can’t live without. Be ready to go in an hour. Earlier if possible. The more time we have to get in front of them, the better. The closest bridge—”

  “I can’t go up there! I can’t go anywhere!” This came from Heather, who sounded hysterical. She pushed past Danny and John. “There are those things up there! Monsters!”

  “It’s leave now or die,” Lira said bluntly. She liked Heather though she’d never allowed herself to get too close to the other woman. “We all have to go, just like Mac says.”

  Anthony looked at her. “Did you know each other . . . before?”

  “No. We met up there.”

  “She saved my life,” Mac said frankly. “Your woman’s a damned good fighter.”

  “She’s not my woman,” Anthony said.

  Rabbi Cohen bustled forward. “Where will we go? How . . . ?”

  “On foot. To the bridge, it’s a half mile.”

  “It’s daylight,” Lira pointed out. “We have a pregnant woman about to go into labor any second. Once we get over the bridge, where do we go? They’re sweeping the city. Won’t they just keep coming?”

  Mac’s gaze went steely. “I don’t know. But I know that once we get out of downtown, we can start heading north. There’s a place I know of. Rumor says there’s a group there, holed up.”

  “What is it?” Anthony, no longer touching her, the distance between them vast, took a step forward.

  “It’s a storage facility. Used to be a mine.” Mac gave Anthony an unwavering look. “Before this all started, a buddy of mine used to brag that if anything went down, he’d taken a share in some survivalist camp. Even if nobody’s there, it’s where we should go.”

  LIRA HAD NOTHING to pack. They had to move fast and light. She was used to that. It would be a relief, anyway, to head out without the weight of a pack on her back. She’d have the weight of responsibility, though.

  The rabbi had been terrific, calming Heather’s fears and getting Candace under control. Danny and John had been their typical steadfast selves. Maybe it was their teenage confidence. Mac had outlined exactly what they were going to do, how long it would take, how they would make it. He and Anthony had worked together, getting things ready to go.

  Everyone got a small bag loaded with a few cans of food and some personal items. The boys carried extra bedding and the medical supplies. They were ready to go. But Anthony hung back watching as Mac herded the others toward the stairs. And Lira hung back, watching Anthony.

  “We need to get out of here. C’mon,” she said.

  Anthony looked at her, gaze steady and assessing. “You believe him?”

  “Yes. I have no reason not to.” Lira studied him. This was not the time for a confrontation if there was going to be one, but she’d have it if he needed it. She supposed she owed him that.

  He nodded sharply, looking after the crowd that had become like a family over the past few months in solitude. “Is he immune?”

  That stopped her. “I . . . don’t know. He’s not sick. I do know that.”

  “He’s a soldier. Maybe they got a vaccine or something.” Anthony paused. “You fought those things with him?”

  “Yes,