Pitch by Jillian Eaton Page A

stated it matter of fact and he was right, of course, but the brief flickering of hurt that crossed his face took me by surprise.
    “I – I trust you.” As much as I can trust anyone who carries more weapons around than Brad Pitt in an action movie and seems to know a suspiciously large amount about what is happening , I added silently.
    “You shouldn’t,” Maximus said, studying me closely.
    “Shouldn’t what?”
    “Trust me.”
    He was impossible. “I have to go back.”
    “Back to where?”
    “The Ren—damn it. How do you do that? Are you in the government?” My eyes narrowed. “FBI? CIA? GI Joe?”
    Another smile, this one longer than the last. I ruthlessly ignored the answering flutter in my belly. “None of the above. So the Renner Hotel, hmm? Not a bad choice, all things considered. Who is with you?”
    Why fight the inevitable? “My dad and my best friend.” Something in the assuming nature of his tone caught my attention and I quickly added, “Wait. Are there other survivors that you know about? Anyw—in the town?” I was about to say ‘anywhere’ but I changed my mind at the last second. If the entire world had been destroyed, I didn’t want to know about it. At least not yet. As my Mom used to say, you have to focus on the little things to see the big picture.
    His shoulders lifted and fell beneath his leather jacket. “There are always survivors. You know what they say about cockroaches, don’t you?”
    I shook my head. I was not, by any means, a cockroach expert.
    “If the world was destroyed by a nuclear blast, cockroaches would survive.”
    “Are you comparing me to a cockroach?” I asked skeptically.
    His teeth glittered white in the darkness. “What if I am?”
    “Then I would say you’re crazy. This isn’t some kind of nuclear blast or a war or something.” 
    “That’s where you’re wrong, Lola.” Maximus stepped closer, pushing into my personal space. I let him push. I liked to see his face up close. To see the color of his eyes. The curve of his lips. The unruliness of his hair. “This is a war,” he said softly, so softly I had no choice but to lean towards him to. He angled his body to mine. We were as close as two people could physically be without touching. My breath caught in my throat, refusing to go up or down.
    “What kind of war?” I managed to croak.
    “A war to end all wars.” His eyes burned into mine. “A war to end the human race.”

 
    CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    The War to End all Wars
     
    A war to end the human race.
    The words rang in my head. Our eyes held until I looked away, over his shoulder. I saw the case of beer that had gone flying out of my hand when the Drinker grabbed me and brushed past Maximus to pick it up. He followed me, silent as a shadow.
    “Beer?” he said as his gaze dropped to the case I had balanced against my hip. “You risked your life for beer?”
    I could tell by the disgust in his voice that any special moment that may or may not have sprung up between us was gone. Hitching the beer up a little higher, I tightened my arm around it protectively. “It’s not for me. It’s for my dad. He needs it. To… to fall asleep,” I finished lamely. I had never told anyone about Dad’s drinking problem before. Not even Travis. He probably should have caught on when I stopped inviting him to my house, but Travis was oblivious about stuff like that. Real problems were beyond his scope of understanding.
    “To fall asleep,” Maximus repeated.
    “Hey, if it’s really the end of the world a guy is entitled to a few beers, right? I might even have one or two myself.” Two complete lies in one sentence. Dad would have the case finished by morning and I would never drink beer again after I had stolen a sip from a lukewarm can he had left lying around one afternoon. My gag reflex kicked in just thinking about it.
    Maximus cupped the back of his neck and looked heavenward to where the last traces of daylight were fading away. “We