The Harder They Fall

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 Ravenna Tate

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-881-2

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All
names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

Thank you to my amazing
editor, Karyn White, for making The Weathermen series shine!

THE HARDER THEY FALL

The Weathermen, 12

Ravenna Tate

Copyright © 2016

Prologue

In
the year 2112, weather researchers around the globe made history with a
computer program nicknamed The Madeline Project. The program used a complicated
series of electrical pulses to induce changes in clouds. The intention was to
prevent or lessen catastrophic weather events such as major floods, tornadoes,
and hurricanes. The first real-time test, in 2116, proved moderately
successful, and the researchers continued to tweak the program, hoping for
complete weather modification one day.

But
something went terribly wrong in 2117, when a group of hackers gained access to
The Madeline Project and tried unsuccessfully to take it down it with a virus
they called Tommy Twister. The program took on a life of its own, and instead
of lessening the effects of weather events, it increased them to catastrophic
proportions. By 2118, over eighty-five percent of the Earth above ground had
been rendered uninhabitable due to the effects of near-constant and powerful
storms.

In
December of 2125, The Madeline Project was finally shut down. Now in early
2126, Earth’s population still lives in underground in sprawling cities, built
during the nuclear war scare of 2072. The surface is once again habitable, but
it will take years to rebuild.

Thanks
to the combined efforts of a group of friends who met in college, and who each
built multi-million dollar communications and IT companies before The Madeline
Project went awry, the planet has been saved. These friends are a powerful,
wealthy, ruthless group of men who take what they want, when they want it.

They
call themselves the Weathermen…

Chapter
One

Blaine
Parker still got chills when he stood on the surface of the planet. It was
difficult to believe The Madeline Project had really been stopped. They could
all go home again, once they rebuilt the surface of the planet, of course.
Right now, there was no place to live but in caves, or in the few hundred
bunkers and storm shelters. None of those would hold the entire population of
the world currently dwelling underground.

Glancing
around at the space where Grand Forks, North Dakota used to be, it was
impossible to distinguish the once-quaint downtown from among the piles of
rubble. Blaine still remembered it the way it was before they were all forced
underground eight years ago. One day, it would look the same or better, if he
had anything to say about it.

“We
don’t have the permits to put up the communications towers,” said Townsend.
“Let alone the buildings.”

Townsend
Dubray was head of NorthCentral Construction. He was Sioux, and his family had
once owned most of this area since before North Dakota became a state. Up until
the world imploded, they had still lived in this same area. Townsend knew the
land, and he knew how to build things. He also gave less of a shit about bureaucracy
than Blaine did, which was why Blaine had hired him.

“Fuck
the permits. That fucking Agency For Surface Rebuild wasn’t started until a
month ago, and already there’s a six month backlog. I’m not waiting that long.
I’ll be out of business before I can get anything built up here. My company was
right here before I had to move it underground. This is where I’m building it
again.”

Townsend
shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

Blaine
kicked at a large piece of weather-beaten plywood. “Every time I come up here I
expect a tornado or a flood to come on me suddenly. I still can’t get used to
it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“Technically,
Dave Perry did it.”

Blaine
chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, because we
made
him do it.”

Townsend
lifted his face to the sky and smiled. “It’s wonderful to breathe the real air
again.”

Blaine
gave him a wry smile. “We have real air underground.”

“No.
Not like this. There was no wind. The smell isn’t the same. This is different.”

Blaine
agreed with Townsend on that point only. The absence of wind during the past
eight years had been difficult to grow used to. The rest of Townsend’s point
wasn’t important enough to split hairs over.

Blaine
found a large enough rock on which to spread out the blueprints. The building
that would house the company once more wasn’t any larger than the one he had
underground. What differed was this time it would be part of an entire complex.

Office
buildings would stand next to high rise apartment buildings, green spaces, and
small groupings of shops. He even had plans for clusters of single family homes
that would afford their owners some yard space, if that’s what they preferred.
Not everyone wanted to live in an apartment. He envisioned a village where
people could walk to work like they did now underground, but one that was still
small enough so residents could get to know each other.

Maybe
if they rebuilt the surface like the cities were now constructed underground,
they could keep the community feel of them. Blaine liked that. He’d grown used
to it, and if he could set the precedent by building this, maybe others would
follow.

Blaine
rolled up the blueprints. “Let’s walk it off again.”

“The
stakes are still there,” said Townsend.

“I
know, but I want to get a feel for where everything will be.” Blaine had
finished purchasing this additional land a few days after The Madeline Project
had been shut down permanently, knowing if he waited, everyone would rush up to
the surface and try to stake out a claim for land that had never belonged to
them in the first place.

The
landmarks might be gone, but he knew this area regardless. The realty company with
which he worked had begun this deal for additional land shortly after he’d been
forced to move underground. He had never believed they’d live out their lives and
then die underground. He had always known they’d be able to live on the surface
again.

As
soon as possible after The Madeline Project became non-operational, he had
called the company, which had remained in business, and had been told the
newly-formed agency set up to control rebuilding might eventually claim eminent
domain over all pre-existing land deals. But he didn’t give a shit about that,
either. He’d tie them up in court for decades if they tried.

All
deals that had begun in 2118, or afterward, would be honored, according to the
agency’s website. This deal had begun in 2118, and he had the documentation to
prove it. Three hundred and fifty acres of what used to be gorgeous, lush land
outside of Grand Forks. He was rebuilding his company on the surface here, and
he would make it thrive once more, the same way he’d done when he’d had to move
it underground.

He
and Townsend began to walk the perimeter, and Blaine took note of the turquoise
stake in the northwest corner. This area was where the single family homes
would go. Lots would range from a third of an acre to two acres. They planned
to plant thick tree lines on the northern and western borders of the homes, and
had discussed planting them around the entire complex. It would make for a gorgeous
border, and the more trees that were planted now, the better.

As
he and Townsend walked at a leisurely pace, they talked about the project and
stopped often to refer to the blueprints. Blaine was surprised to see a figure
approach them from the direction of the nearest airlock, and he wondered who
she was and why she was up here. He’d been coming up here almost every day for
two months, and he saw others less than half the time.

It
would take everyone a while to figure out where to go, even if they did decide
to pick up and move here. One of the reasons he’d jumped on completing this
land deal was because he knew the government would create offices and agencies
to try to control the surface. Otherwise there would be chaos.

While
he understood the need for it, no one was going to prevent him from keeping
land that he’d owned before all this had happened. Some things had to be
honored from before. They couldn’t all start over from scratch.

“Blaine
Parker?” she called.

Blaine
and Townsend stopped walking while Blaine shielded his eyes. He grinned. It had
been a long time since he’d had to shield his eyes from the real sun, and it
felt wonderful to do so now. “I’m Blaine Parker. How can I help you?”

As
she drew closer, his dick jumped to attention. Shoulder-length red hair blew in
the soft breeze—it had been a long time since he’d seen that, too—and
intelligent green eyes regarded him. A freckled face topped a lush, curvy body
that made him ache to see it naked. Was her skin freckled everywhere? Who was
this adorable girl?

Her
gaze roamed slowly over him as she decreased her pace. She was checking him
out. He was used to that, but the clipboard in her hand intrigued him as much
as her admiration of him. Was she with his realty company?

She
paused in front of him and stuck out her hand. “Colleen Newton. You’re a hard
man to track down.”

I’m a hard man, sweetie, period
. He shook her hand. “What can I do
for you?” He didn’t recognize the name. A quick glance at her clipboard gave
him no information.

“I’m
with the NorthCentral Division of the Agency For Surface Rebuild.”

“Permits,”
said Townsend, under his breath.

But
not softly enough because Colleen heard him. “Yes,
permits
. You have none, Mr. Parker. You’re not building here
without them.”

The
newly-formed agency must be desperate if they had hired people to chase down
anyone trying to rebuild on land they technically already owned. He handed
Townsend the blueprints, sighing loudly enough for Miss Newton to hear, then
pulled the papers out of his jeans pocket and shoved them at her.

“I
owned some of this land before we all moved underground. The deal for the
additional land was begun in 2118. According to the latest guidelines posted on
your agency’s website, as of late last night when I checked it again, you can’t
refuse to allow me to complete a land deal started in 2118,
ergo
, I
will
be building my complex on
my
land.” He winked at her. “Sorry you came all the way up here for nothing.”

She
looked at him like he’d insulted her entire family, about three generations back.
Then she dropped her clipboard in the dust and placed her hands on her hips.
Blaine nearly lost it. What was it about that gesture? It was so damn cute.

To
him, it had never signified defiance or anger. A person who is angry balls his
hands into fists, ready to fight. One who is defiant puffs out their chest,
trying to make themselves appear larger. Putting your hands on your hips was
like trying to brace yourself against a fall by closing your eyes. It did
nothing to help you.

“Mr.
Parker, I don’t think you understand. The Agency has control of all building,
including communications towers. The division I work for has control throughout
NorthCentral.”

“Are
they keeping the names the same, then?” he asked.

“What?”

“I
asked you if they’re keeping the names the same. NorthCentral below ground,
NorthCentral above ground … won’t that be a bit confusing?”

Townsend
chuckled under his breath and shook his head, but Colleen was not amused. Her
emerald-colored eyes flashed with the indignation of someone young enough to
have little experience at being in authority, but enough intelligence and
street smarts to be able to pull it off, regardless.

Blaine
liked her. She was damn beautiful, and she had fire inside. She wouldn’t be
boring. He wondered how old she was. Couldn’t be more than thirty, and she was
likely closer to twenty-five. He was forty-two, and had no qualms about dating
someone that young.

“This
has nothing to do with the names of the cities.”

“Well,
actually, yes, it does. I don’t want my customers confused. I think you should
consider naming them differently up here, or adding another word.
NorthCentralUp, for instance.”

“NorthCentralTopside,”
said Townsend.

“Oh,
I like that better. Up and down are too generic.”

“That’s
about enough of that from both of you.” She picked up her clipboard and tore
off the top sheet. “This is a notice from the Agency prohibiting you from
building so much as a birdhouse until you get the proper permits.” She thrust
it at him.

Blaine
glanced at it for no more than a split second, then passed it to Townsend. “Why
would I build a birdhouse, Colleen? There are no birds left up here.”

She
shook her head slowly, but he caught the way her mouth almost curled into a
smile. It was quick, but he definitely saw it. Her gaze softened about three
degrees. “Very funny. You know what I mean. I’ll be up here in a week, and I’d
better not see anything begun or we’ll shut you down.”

“You
try that and my attorneys will challenge your agency’s authority. I’ll tie you
up in court for longer than you can imagine.” He’d like to tie
her
up in bed.

“This
agency was formed by the Vice President’s Office. Knock yourself out.”

“I
know her personally. The Vice President.”

Colleen
smiled, but it wasn’t a humorous gesture. “So do I. See you in a week.”

She
turned, and Blaine watched her ass move under the flowered skirt. His damn cock
was rock hard now, and there wasn’t one fucking thing he could do about it
until he was safely back in his apartment underground. He snatched the paper
out of Townsend’s hand, then put Colleen Newton’s contact info from the
letterhead at the top of it into his Internet phone.

“What
are you going to do?” asked Townsend.

Blaine
handed him back the paper. “I’m going to ask her out to dinner.”

****

Colleen
forced her pace to slow down. She didn’t want to give Mr. Gorgeous Weatherman
Blaine Parker the impression she was storming off in a huff. Of all the people
to have to track down, she’d pulled the short straw—literally. She could still
hear her coworkers snickering when she realized she was the one who had to
chase down Blaine.

Even
her aunt had been unable to intervene. It would have looked like favoritism,
which it was, and Colleen had agreed that wouldn’t be a good start to her
career with the agency. Her MA in urban planning and development had helped her
land this job, and she didn’t want to waste all that education.

Plus,
it had been the only job offer she’d received since earning that degree two
years ago that didn’t include asking customers if they wanted to try the
special that day. In her interview, she’d been told this would be a rough
start. Chaos was likely to ensue as people clamored to return to their homes,
which of course were gone now. Land barriers had been eroded. Landmarks were
gone. Part of this agency’s task was to find the old markers, if they could,
and make sure those who owned land before got it back, or at least were given
suitable alternatives.