Free Hidden Flames by Kennedy Layne

the trees above them. There were no calls from the birds, no movement from the squirrels, no sounds from the crickets…basically no wildlife present. It was eerie and before she could comment on it, Owen was pushing extra magazines into the pouch on her belt.
    “Wait,” Prue argued, trying to shift so that he couldn’t slip the shiny chrome clips into the small twin black leather pouches attached to her belt. “I don’t have a license to carry.”
    “We’re in a situation where that doesn’t matter anymore.” Owen quickly ran through the safety and instructions on the weapon he’d secured in her holster. It felt odd having it at her side and she wasn’t sure if it made her feel safer, but it apparently satisfied his concern for her wellbeing. “I don’t want you in the position of not being able to defend yourself if needed. Those men are the type of people who will do whatever is necessary to survive—even killing innocent people that stand in their way.”
    Owen stepped back and appeared to approve of her new accessory. The heat she felt at her side had nothing to do with the weapon and everything to do with the imprint of his hand. Prue looked down and considered arguing with him just to prove that nothing had changed between them, but the thought of Deacon and his group kept her tongue in check. She did need to protect herself.
    “Do you notice anything?” Prue asked, sitting back on her bike and waiting for him to do the same. Owen glanced around them and she realized that he’d caught the eerie silence as well. “The wildlife is preparing to survive as well.”
    “We need to keep under the radar with the amount of weapons and supplies that we have with us.” Owen lifted the kickstand with the heel of his boot, settling his weight on the heavy machine. His last statement stayed with her for miles and miles, reverberating in her mind. “We’re no different than an animal’s basic instinct to survive and the weak will be eradicated by the strong by the time this is all over.”

Chapter Five

    O wen didn’t have a muscle in his body that didn’t hurt by the time they’d reached Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He’d never ridden his bike for such a long distance before and he didn’t think Prue had either. Between the aggressive tread vibrating the bike more than usual and the seven hundred plus miles of back road, Owen was ready for a rest. Motorcycles were meant to be enjoyed and not an ideal vehicle to escape a nationwide catastrophe on at a high rate of speed. He slowly pulled down the country lane to an abandoned campsite at the edge of a small wooded area skirting a large pond, the stillness ringing in his ears when they shut off their engines. He clenched his teeth against the deep ache in his back when he stood and dismounted his bike.
    The small county park’s camping area appeared quite deserted. There had been no lock on the gate, not that Owen had expected some lone ranger to be patrolling the area considering the threat looming over everyone as it were. Several old prison-made parks department picnic tables were positioned here and there among the sites and he’d chosen one at random—close enough to the entrance to hear if someone drove in and far enough away to keep their presence a secret should someone pass by looking for trouble. It was as eerily quiet as when they’d stopped earlier today on the side of the road. No wildlife making themselves known and barely a rustle of the leaves on the trees.
    “We’ll catch a couple of hours of sleep here,” Owen said, still looking around the area for any unseen threats. He shook out his hands, trying his best to get some feeling back into his fingers. They’d gone numb several hours into this trip and he hated the prickly sensations the vibrations of the handlebars caused. “How are you holding up?”
    Owen caught Prue’s annoyed glance when he shot her that question. He could see what she thinking—she could handle anything that he