The year is 2016, and every conspiracy theory we worried about in 2010 has come true. Only a select few have escaped the New Order's control.
Thrasher never took risky chances with his freedom, so when Johanna approaches him and asks for his help to get to the refugee camp, he does what he'd promised he'd never do—he helps her escape. Little does he know that decision will change his world.
Johanna has two choices: go willingly into the repro-M order, or infiltrate the refugee camp. She never plans to fall for the survivalist who helps her escape. With pressure mounting, will she follow through with the plan, or lose the love of her life?
Thrasher turned left down the alley, between two old, abandoned buildings, without missing a step. Five, ten, fifteen steps into the vacant area, and he turned and pinned her against the wall. He squeezed the cords of her throat.
"You've got twenty seconds to explain yourself, and then I will kill you." He grazed the shell of her ear with his lips.
She struggled to swallow. "Ch-Cheddar c-caught."
Thrasher eased up on her neck and leaned his head back to get a better view of the woman. "Who are you?"
"I…" She closed her eyes, seeming to gather her thoughts or maybe to deliver more air to her lungs. Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened. She stared directly into his with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. "Jo-Johanna."
"Where's Cheddar now?" He loosened his grip but remained pressed tight against her, holding her to the brick wall. Despite the danger in talking to her, his body enjoyed her much softer, feminine curves.
"Please. You have to take me with you." Her hands clutched at the sides of his shirt. "I must leave the city."
He stepped back, flung her arms off him, and ran his hands through his hair.
"I have money. I can take Cheddar's place." She grabbed his shirtsleeve, not letting him retreat. "I know about the rogues' camp farther away. I friended Cheddar months ago when he started coming into town. I'd helped him sneak out the store many times so that he wouldn't get caught." She lowered her voice. "I must leave today, with or without your help." She stepped forward, wringing her hands. "Please, I cannot stay—"
Thrasher expected her to pout, to plead her case, even use tears to convince him to take her along with him outside the borders and to the rogues. His gut tightened, and he frowned. What she did was the complete opposite.
She lifted her dainty chin and removed her hands from his shirt. "I am useful."
He lowered his gaze to her breasts. They were large and firm, and her nipples strained against her shirt. She packed her clothes nicely, with enough curves to attract any man's attention. Not too skinny, her body reminded him how he'd lived the past year, destitute and alone, without any comfort from the opposite sex.
"Say yes." She stepped closer. "Please. I'll do anything…"