Harbor: The Wanderers, #3

By Becca Jameson

There is no safe place in the world anymore, especially for women. For several decades, the birth rate of females has been declining. Militants, the government, and private citizens alike will do anything to find young women and force them into unthinkable arrangements.

 

Against the darkness of this world stand The Wanderers—a secret society born to provide sanctuary for anyone who believes in free will and democratic notions. Their numbers are growing and their citizens live in safe, hidden compounds.

 

Maya has been running from herself for most of her life. Her claustrophobia chases her above ground every chance she can get. She prefers to keep moving, always looking for someone to rescue and bring to the safety of The Wanderers.

 

Losing her footing and falling on a piece of rebar wasn't in her plans. The gouge in her calf is deep and long. The best she can do is drag herself off the beaten path, wrap the leg in linens, and hope someone finds her before it's too late. Preferably someone with good intentions.

 

She has no idea how lucky she is to be rescued by three doctors who take her to their underground clinic and nurse her to health. Why do they have to be so sexy and so kind? Falling for them isn't an option. She's not meant to live underground. She needs fresh air. She needs to continue with her life's work.

 

Dario, Keanu, and Advic may have saved her life, but they have no idea what kinds of trauma she has faced besides her leg injury. They might be able to lure her into their bed, but that doesn't mean she will stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becca Jameson Publishing
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201392819

Becca Jameson

Becca Jameson is the best-selling author of the Wolf Masters series and The Fight Club series. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. With almost 50 books written, she has dabbled in a variety of genres, ranging from paranormal to BDSM. When she isn’t writing, she can be found jogging with her dog, scrapbooking, or cooking. She doesn’t sleep much, and she loves to talk to fans, so feel free to contact her through e-mail, Facebook, or her website. …where Aphas dominate.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, Maya muttered under her breath before gritting her teeth to keep from screaming in pain. Fucking rebar.

It was always dangerous climbing through the rubble of collapsed overpasses, but Maya had been through this section of the city dozens of times. She knew every chunk of concrete by heart. She knew exactly where to plant her boots to avoid sliding too far and where to grab on to overhanging wires and poles to avoid the landmine of rebar.

Today, she’d slipped and a nasty piece of exposed rusty rebar had caught on her leather pants, tearing a long hole from her ankle to her thigh. The ruined leather alone would have been enough to piss her off, but the long nasty gash on her calf hurt like a motherfucker and was bleeding badly.

After glancing around to make sure no one had seen her, she tugged a T-shirt out of her pack, ripped it into strips, and tied each strip around her leg up and down the gash. It wasn’t enough, but she needed to get out of this section of crumbled highway before someone found her.

She was too exposed here in the wide open in the middle of the day. She needed to move and fast.

Every step she took sent shooting pain up her leg. She had to use her arm strength to basically drag herself over the rubble, heading back in the direction she’d come because the distance was shorter.

It took an hour to get out of the pile of concrete, and then she somehow managed to drag herself into the tree line before collapsing onto her back, exhausted and sweating.

Fuck, she repeated for the millionth time. Her leg was throbbing. Blood had soaked the makeshift bandage and down into her short boot. She knew she couldn’t lie here forever wasting time. She was no longer an easy target in plain view, but she wasn’t out of the woods either.

There was no way she could get to any of the outposts she customarily used. The nearest one was three miles away. She wouldn’t be able to put any pressure on her leg at all. On top of that, she was well aware she was already feverish and losing consciousness.

Praying she had a signal here, she reached for her radio hooked to the side of her backpack. Her palm landed on nothing. She jerked her gaze to the pack and turned it around to the other side. Nothing. The radio must have fallen out when she slipped.

Dammit. Fucking goddammit. Gritting her teeth, she stared up at the sky, taking deep breaths. She was well and truly screwed. She had no way to get in touch with The Wanderers. No one would have a clue where she was. It wasn’t like she ever left an itinerary. Ha.

Maya operated alone. She always had and always would. She’d been with The Wanderers for seven years. During that time, she’d spent most of her days scouring the area in every direction, looking for people who needed help. Mostly looking for women. There were still women and children out in the world who were hiding. People who needed a safe place to go.

Maya had made it her mission in life to find as many lost souls as she could and bring them into the fold. It was dangerous work. She’d always known that. She’d told herself time and again that even if she one day got caught by militants or the government, her work would never have been in vain. She’d rescued hundreds of people and brought them to safety.

Was today her last day? Had her number been pulled? Would she die on the side of the road? Alone.

No. Fuck no.

Using every ounce of her remaining strength, she pushed to sitting, wincing as she glanced at her leg. She yanked open her pack and reached inside for her first-aid kit. It wouldn’t be enough, but she could at least pour peroxide over the cut to keep it from getting infected. She could wrap it in clean gauze.

She wished she could stitch it together. She had a needle and thread for such an occasion. She wasn’t opposed to stitching her own leg. But it wasn’t going to happen this time. The cut was too deep and along the back of her calf. She wouldn’t be able to reach, and she was fading. Blood loss was making her woozy.

Using every bit of her waning energy, she untied the makeshift bandages, doused the cut with peroxide, and wrapped gauze as tightly as she could around her leg. The last thing she forced herself to do before succumbing to sleep was drink a bottle of water. She would need the fluid if she stood any sort of chance of surviving the night.

The sun was dipping in the sky as she dropped onto her back once again, exhausted, scared out of her mind, probably delirious.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

No one was coming for her. No one knew where she was. No one would miss her for at least another week. She’d been known to go out for long periods without checking in.

There was no telling what might happen as night fell. Animals could tear her to shreds if they scented the blood. Militants were just as likely to find her. If they did…

She refused to think about that possibility. In fact, she reached back into her pack and palmed her gun. There was no way she could possibly shoot several people if they came upon her, and the noise would only bring her location to the attention of dozens of more men.

That’s not what the gun was for. What Maya intended to do with the gun if someone found her was shoot herself. It would be better to end her life than to be taken by any number of rogue groups. If she was captured, she would be sold, raped, bred, tortured.

She’d sworn long ago she’d never let anything like that happen to her. Not again. Never again.

CHAPTER 2

No, Maya screamed. Stop. Please. You don’t want to do this.

After two years taking this same route, trying to help people, she’d been captured by militants.

They were dragging her to their compound.

Laughing. Five or six of them.

It was hard to see clearly. Her eyes were swollen shut from being punched so many times. Her jaw was sore. She was certain she had broken ribs from being kicked.

It was impossible to walk on her own. Her legs wouldn’t take orders from her brain. Two men were holding her arms, dragging her. They were walking fast, pulling her along between them. They didn’t care if they injured her further, which meant they had only one use for her. Rape and leave for dead.

That’s often how militants operated. She was well-aware. She’d found evidence of their pillaging before. Homes broken into. The male occupants killed. The females raped and killed or left for dead.

Maya was a fighter. She would fight these men until they were forced to kill her. She would shut off her mind and not let them break her when they raped her. She had to. It was the only way she could survive.

Another sharp tug on her arms as they hauled her into the back of some sort of delivery van.

She fought harder, trying to free her arms. If they took her to another location, she might never find her way back.

But they held on tight to her arms. No matter how hard she tugged, she couldn’t free herself.

CHAPTER 3

Maya screamed in pain.

She was moving. How was that possible?

She tried to open her eyes, but she didn’t have the strength.

Someone was lifting her. Fuck.

She squeezed her hand around the gun she held against her chest. Only it wasn’t there. It was gone.

She fought to free herself, crying out again, mostly from the pain.

A hand came over her mouth. Shh. You’re okay. You’re safe, a deep male voice told her.

Was he crazy? She didn’t know him. She was anything but safe. She couldn’t let him take her. This couldn’t be happening.

She tried to bite his palm and failed.

When he jostled her closer to his chest, a fierce, sharp pain shot up her leg, and then everything went black…

CHAPTER 4

Maya’s eyes bolted open. Someone was on top of her. Holding her down. Not just one man. Four or five. They were stretching her arms and legs out and holding her down.

She shivered from the cold. She was naked.

So was the man on top of her.

He was laughing.

Everything hurt.

Her head was throbbing from being slammed into a wall.

She knew she had several cracked ribs from being kicked into submission.

She tried to tug her arms and legs free, but the men were stronger than her.

How many times had she been raped so far? A dozen? She’d lost count. It didn’t matter. Why didn’t they just kill her already?

How long had she been here? Two days? Longer?

She tried to scream, but couldn’t. Her voice was already shot from screaming so much. Her throat hurt. She was so thirsty.

The man on top of her climbed off her, laughing. His cock was dripping with come. He’d already raped her before she’d woken up. At least she hadn’t had to endure the humiliation this time. She’d been blessedly unconscious.

It hurt. Everywhere. So much pain.

She gave another unsuccessful tug to her arms and then passed out again.

CHAPTER 5

Pain…

So much pain…

Her leg was on fire.

She was also sweating and shivering. Heavy blankets were weighing her down.

She tried hard to open her eyes, but only managed to part them for a few seconds. Not long enough. Where was she?

Voices around her made her heart beat faster. Male voices. Several of them.

A hand landed on her forehead. She’s burning with fever still, a man said.

There’s nothing else we can do for now. She’s going to have to fight. Another male voice. They sounded kind. Was that even possible?

Someone leaned down to whisper in her ear. Stay with us, sweetheart. You can do this. You’re strong. I know you are.

She tried to lick her lips, wanting to respond. Demand answers. But she couldn’t move.

Blackness crept back in…

CHAPTER 6

Maya jerked her eyes open, expecting to find herself once again being dragged or raped.

Nothing.

Darkness.

Silence.

Blessed silence.

She blinked several times and tried to look around, but it hurt to move. Everything hurt. Even her eyelids somehow.

She couldn’t find the strength to lift her head or even turn her neck.

She was on the floor. Concrete she thought. There was a filthy mattress several feet away from her, the place where she’d been raped over and over, but she wasn’t on it now.

The cold, hard wall pressing against her back indicated she was in the corner of the room. Had they thrown her there or had she crawled? Either was possible.

Her ears were ringing, and she groaned from the pain, but there was no other sound.

Had the militants left? Were they done? Or would they come back?

She’d known they would eventually leave her for dead. If she was lucky, that was the case.

She tried to stretch out her arms and legs, but it took too much effort. She didn’t have the strength. Perhaps her arms were still tied behind her back. She didn’t think anything was broken other than cracked ribs, but she couldn’t be sure.

She knew she was covered in lacerations and bruises. If anyone saw her, she would be unrecognizable. No one would see her though. No one would find her until it was too late. She was going to die here, wherever here was.

And she didn’t have the will to care anymore.

CHAPTER 7

The next time Maya was lucid lasted longer, but not long enough. She was alone. It was dark. The only lights in the room came from medical equipment.

Medical equipment? Was she in a hospital?

She needed to get out of here.

She lifted her head, wincing at the effort. How long had she been here?

Her leg was elevated and wrapped tightly. She couldn’t see the damage under the bandages. Her toes were numb though. That was a bad sign.

Her head was pounding.

She forced herself to stay awake, take in her surroundings. Definitely some sort of medical facility, which meant the man who’d found her wasn’t with the militants. They wouldn’t have gotten her medical care. They would have raped her and dumped her body. She knew from personal experience.

Which meant she’d undoubtedly been found by someone from the government. Which party? The Commonwealth or the Republic? If someone from the Republic had brought her in, her life was as doomed as if she’d been found by militants. They would nurse her back to health and then…

She refused to consider the possibilities. None of them were pretty. She could be sold, bred, enslaved, forced to service any number of men. The Republic was not kind to women. They’d stripped them of their rights and turned them into slaves.

She shook thoughts of being raped and impregnated against her will from her head and soaked in the room. She had an IV. That was a good sign. At least when she finally woke up for good, she would be hydrated.

She tried to lift her arms, but they were too heavy.

No, they were restrained. Her wrists were bound to the sides of the bed.

Fuck.

That was a very bad sign.

Other than the IV, she didn’t seem to be hooked up to any other machines.

She was shivering, which meant she had a fever.

She considered calling out for help but decided against it. It would do her no good to discover her fate. She wasn’t strong enough to fight off whoever had her.

Sleep was already tugging her back under too. She couldn’t fight it.

She welcomed it this time.

CHAPTER 8

Can you open your eyes for me, hon? Someone was stroking her forehead. Gentle fingers. His voice sounded kind.

Maya started shivering with cold as she blinked her eyes. Her teeth were chattering. So cold, she managed to whisper as she met the man’s gaze.

He smiled warmly. There you are. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Welcome back to the land of the living. The man was dark-skinned with nearly black eyes. Kind eyes. Gentle eyes. Creases at the corners grew with his smile.

He continued to stroke her forehead.

She shivered. Why so cold?

Your fever is breaking, hon. You’re under the covers though. We keep changing the bedding every time you soak it from sweating.

She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry. She kept her eyes on this man. Could she trust him? He seemed so very kind.

He leaned away from her to reach for something and returned holding up a cup with a straw. How about a drink of water?

She eyed him suspiciously. She shouldn’t trust him or anyone for that matter. He could have drugged the water.

He must have read her mind because he brought the cup to his mouth and took a drink himself before bringing the straw to her lips. It’s safe and clean. I promise.

She searched his gaze. Her options were limited. She was so thirsty.

Finally, she accepted the straw and sucked. The cool water felt like heaven going down her throat. She couldn’t get enough of it.

Careful, hon. Not too fast. Your stomach will get upset. The man was wearing blue scrubs. He was either a doctor or a nurse. Or hell, in this new world, he could be anything.

When the cup was empty, he set it aside.

More, she murmured, finally able to lick her lips. If she was going to be sold into slavery, at least she wanted to be hydrated.

Let’s wait a bit, hon. He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Your color is coming back, and I’m so glad to finally see those pretty green eyes.

Hey… Another male voice caused her to turn her attention to the man entering the room. He was slightly older than the first man. Early forties. Tall. Tanned. Brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a lab coat with his name embroidered on the breast. Dr. Dario Shan.

Where am I? she managed to whisper. She might as well learn her fate sooner rather than later.

The doctor set his palm on her forehead. Fever’s breaking. That’s good. He smiled at her just as warmly as the other man. You’re in a clinic. You’re safe here.

She lifted a brow and nearly laughed. She would have rolled her eyes and sassed him if she’d had the energy.

She must have at least managed to convey her reaction with her expression because Dr. Shan chuckled. I guess safe is a relative term these days, isn’t it? But I promise you it’s true. We’re underground. Totally secure.

She glanced around, realizing there were no windows. The room was small. She felt trapped. She didn’t like to be underground. That was why she never spent more than a few days in the bunker with The Wanderers. She grew restless and nervous when she felt like she couldn’t escape. Who are you? She tugged on her arms. They were still strapped down. Her heart rate picked up. Safe, my ass…

Dr. Shan lifted the edge of her blanket and unfastened her wrist from the side of the bed.

The first man did the same on his side. We had to restrain you. You were delirious and flailing around. Your IV came out more than once. We didn’t want you to fall out of bed.

What’s your name, sweetheart? the doctor asked.

She swallowed. She didn’t want to tell them anything. Not yet. Not until she could be sure she could trust them.

The doctor smiled again. I’m Dr. Shan, but call me Dario. We’re not formal here. He glanced at the other man. "This is Keanu Iona. And the other man