Page 22 of Following Their Heart

I’ve asked myself a hundred times if I regret making that decision, and the answer I keep coming up with is: no. I don’t. It was one-hundred-percent the right call. Cora genuinely seems to like all the guys, and they’re all ga-ga over her, myself included. She was meant to belong to all of us. I can see that.

The trouble is that I don’t like it.

If I’m honest with myself—and I fucking hate being honest with myself—I want Cora to be mine alone. I want the others to look at me with her and covet what I have. But that’s the kind of desire that divides. It’s a human desire that comes from the darkness inside me, the darkness we all have in some measure.

What kind of Judge would I be if I cut down some men for having way too much darkness inside them and then turn around and let my own darkness rule me? The key to making this new world one worth living in is keeping the darkness inside all of us to a minimum. Indulging it will only feed it and make it stronger.

So, I ignored the darkness that tempted me to be selfish. I made the call that would unite rather than divide. Cora would belong not just to one of us, but to all of us. And it’s a good thing, too, because the way I’ve been acting with her, she might have chosen to give herself to every man herebutme.

I’m gonna earn you, today, kitten. I’m gonna be better for you.

My chair is swiveled to the map on the wall, and Cora’s standing between my spread legs, oblivious to the fact she is gonna get a kinder, gentler Jud today.

She lifts her hand to the map. “What are these marks?” She points at one of the crosshairs dotting the red line around our mountain. There are a couple dozen of them.

“Those are the trail cams. Anytime one of them senses movement or sound, day or night, it starts recording and keeps going until all’s quiet again. Those files get sent here by Wi-Fi.” I pat my trusty desktop computer. “So, every morning, I have a bunch of files to check.”

I guide her to sit on one thigh, and I open the first file. It’s captured a bear lumbering through the stream that trickles down the eastern slope.

“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, the files are like this. Just back-to-back clips of wildlife doing what wildlife does.” I show her how I set the speed to x4. “But that point-one percent that isn’t wildlife—well, that’s when me and Grim get to go out and figure out if we got a new friend.” I give her a significant look. “Or a new foe to deal with.”

I’m especially careful with this morning’s review, since we have a known enemy setting his sights on us. Cora sits patiently on my lap for the next half hour while I scour the files for birdlife that looks out of place. I’m betting we catch unusual bird activity on the cams when Raptor gets close. He’ll want to gather recon on us to see how prepared we are. Fortunately, nothing stands out from the overnight hours.

When we’re done with the security check, I invite Cora to make my morning rounds with me. There are always a few trail cams that don’t get enough solar power to keep their batteries charged, so every couple days I have to change out the batteries for freshly-charged ones.

“Sounds good,” she says, and she genuinely seems to want to hang out with me today. I’m not sure why, when she could be with one of the others, but I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth. “After, can you show me the bomb shelter?”

There’s a lot to do to prepare for the fight coming our way, but I’ll always make time for Cora. “Sure. Good for you to see where you’ll be staying once the shit hits the fan. After, if you want, I’ll take you to the summit. I need to check on Scrap’s progress with the radar system.”

“Oooh! The summit? Yes! I want to go. Thank you!” She bounces on my lap and I have to tell my dick to behave.

My dick has to behave a lot, because, as usual, I sit Cora on my lap on the four-wheeler as I make my rounds. I like having my arms around her. I also like the way her pert, little ass bounces on me when we hit the occasional rocky patch. My morning rides are my favorite chore, but having Cora along makes it even better. It also doesn’t hurt that the weather is cooperating.

It rained some overnight, but this morning, the sun is out, and the air is crisp. Leaves are turning from green to yellow and orange, and the little critters of the forest are out foraging. The heavy scent of pine permeates everything. Dragging that scent into my lungs energizes me like nothing else. Well, I can think of one other scent that energizes me. If I play my cards right, maybe I’ll get to inhale it right from the source tonight. But I’m not counting any chickens.

If Cora chooses someone else, I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t owe me anything. I’ll wait patiently for my turn, and then when I get it, I’ll show her just how sweet her daddy can be.

It’s almost nine when I click a fresh battery into the last trail cam. “Ready to see the shelter?”

Cora takes the discharged battery from me and slips it in the backpack I’ve got bungeed to the four-wheeler. She beams at me, and my face does something strange. It smiles back.

“All aboard,” she quips as she climbs on my lap. We’ve got a system down. I mount the seat first and scoot away from the handlebars a few inches. She throws a leg over the seat in front of me. I grab her waist and drag her on top of my thighs while I scoot up again. Then she puts her hands on mine on the handlebars. My body spoons around her.

“Comfy, baby?” I ask over the growl of the engine. I speak directly into her ear.

She surprises me by turning and kissing me on the lips. “Yes, Daddy.”

Fuck me. This woman.

What a dick I’ve been to her. The entire time she’s been with us, I’ve been rewarding this sweetness with crabbiness. That shit ends now.

The ride to the mine entrance takes a good twenty minutes. The path is steep and has lots of switchbacks. There are three entrances, but the one I’m headed for is the highest. This is the one and only safe way to get to the bomb shelter. If you don’t know exactly where you’re going, you’ll run into some gnarly booby traps.

I guide Cora through the twists and turns of the dark passage, much of which was carved out decades ago by men much smaller than me. Most of the way, I have to do this head-to-the-side thing so I fit.

“Uh, I don’t think OSHA would approve of these passageways,” Cora says, noticing my stooping. She’s following me, hand in mine, as the bright LED lanterns on our helmets spotlight our path.

“It’s M-SHA.” I tell her. “MineSafety and Health. Not that organizations like that matter anymore.”

---