by Angela White
Jennifer felt the weight of his stare and was terrified by it. “I won’t fight you. Please don’t hurt me.”
Kyle growled in denial and spun away from the door. He was an Eagle–he didn’t take by force.
Then make her willing, his heart whispered ruthlessly. Willing is better.
Yes. Kyle moved for the driver’s door, picking out a small farmhouse nearby. To have her wrap her arms around me, to pull me closer...
He closed the door, grunting in longing. That would be worth my place… Maybe even my life.
7
Samantha yanked harder, hurting her arm, but not budging the cuffs securing her to the steering wheel. Rick had made sure she wasn’t going anywhere.
Sam had come awake as he pulled them inside this garage and took something from the back of the truck. She’d started trying to get free as soon as she heard his heavy steps in the house above her.
Samantha strained to see the interior of the truck, hoping for the knife he’d taken from her belt–along with the Taser–but found only trash.
Her eyes went to the horn, but she hesitated. If he heard her, he might come back and he would be angry. He’ll hurt me.
He’s going to anyway, the voice inside remarked almost eagerly. You have to kill him.
“Nooooo!”
The scream echoed through the darkness, full of fear and pain, and Samantha’s head snapped upward. “Becky?”
“Please, no! Stop!”
Rick had Becky up there.
Samantha twisted again, this time using her palm to lean on the horn.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
In the house above her, Rick didn’t react to the noise. Sporadic gunfire was still echoing from the slaver camp, Samantha wasn’t going anywhere as long as the cuffs held, and the Eagles were gone. He could spare an hour to enjoy what Becky had been teasing him with. Her battered body would torture Neil and Adrian–if it was ever found.
Rick thrust again, fingers squeezing, scratching, pinching.
Becky only whimpered, and he began slapping her between strokes.
Rick shuddered in ecstasy when she shrieked, leaning down to taste her tears.
Outside, the horn continued to blare those three distinctive blasts.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
Seth headed for the faint sound determinedly, hoping it didn’t tip-off Rick. The emergency code sounded like any other alarm on an abandoned car, adopted by Adrian for just this reason.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
The light in the window was only a thin beam in the darkness that Seth would have missed if not for the horn leading him to the right house in the row. Above the garage, shadows struggled violently and Seth headed that way.
He noted vaguely that the horn had stopped, but now that he thought he knew where Rick was, it didn’t matter.
Determined to help Samantha, Seth let himself in through an already broken window and quietly found the stairs.
8
Kevin cut the gag from Samantha’s mouth as they headed inside the house. He did her hands next, following her lead. She had jumped from the truck the instant the cuffs were off, motioning him to be quiet.
“That’s perfect!”
Kevin heard the familiar, hated voice, and the awful sounds under it as they found the stairs and took the lead. Murder filled his thoughts.
“You feel good, Becky baby, real good!” Rick groaned. Bedsprings creaked rhythmically as he wallowed between her bloody legs.
Slap!
“Uggg!” Becky cringed, turning her head to avoid the next blow and saw someone in black coming up behind Rick.
Creak...
Becky grabbed Rick’s hair before he could look, and pulled his slimy mouth down to hers–then bit into his lip. Blood flew into her mouth, gagging her.
“You bitch!” Rick drew back to punch and saw a cold eagerness in her eyes that screamed duck!
Rick did, but it was too late.
“Uh-uh!” Seth knocked Rick off Samantha with a nasty temple shot and found a different naked body curling into a bloody ball.
It’s not Samantha. “Becky?”
Coming out of the daze of lust to feel pain, Rick scrambled backward for his gun and fell off the bed.
Seeing the weapon, Seth instantly guessed that Becky wasn’t supposed to come out of here alive. He moved toward Rick with a harsh smile. “Where ya goin? This party’s just started!”
Rick gained his feet and darted for the stairs.
Kevin appeared in the doorway, blocking his exit in angry satisfaction. “He ain’t done yet. Get back in there and take it like you were giving it!”
Samantha appeared behind Kevin, sneering, “Miss me?”
“That’s mine!” Rick cried, lunging forward.
“No!” Kevin punched him hard enough to send the traitor reeling back into Seth’s reach. “She’s Adrian’s!”
Rick spun for the other door in the room and Seth kicked out, bringing the evil man back to the floor by his knees.
“Ahhh!”
Seth kicked again, aiming for ribs this time, and was rewarded with a harsh snap and another loud shout.
“Again!” Becky screamed, now standing shakily by the bed. She was awful to look at. “Do it again!”
Seth was caught off guard by her hatred, pausing in surprise. That wasn’t the Becky they all knew.
Rick took advantage, slamming his fist into Seth’s ankle. It brought the cop down, and they struggled for the gun, grunting and cursing each other.
Becky limped to the table, the one Rick had tossed his things onto after shoving her down on the bed. What she needed was there.
Seth elbowed Rick in the ribs and lunged backward in a vicious head-butt. He spun in the suddenly limp hold and swung. Quicker than Rick could defend, blood splattered at the blow.
Seth repeated the motion, using more force. He took them both! He raped Becky!
Seth swung again.
Rick’s head smacked into the wall and he slumped there, barely conscious.
“You are under arrest for...a lot of shit!” Seth gasped out, slinging blood from his hands so that he could grasp the cuffs on his belt. “You’ll stand trial...and hang!–in the camp you’ve tried so hard to destroy!”
“No,” Becky stated regretful. “I won’t allow that.”
“Don’t!” Rick cried.
Faced with death, evil was filled with fear.
Becky stepped around Seth and fired.
Hands up in defense, the bullet plunged through Rick’s wrist and then his throat. Blood immediately gushed from the holes.
That’s a shot any Eagle would be proud of, Seth thought vaguely, turning to stare at Becky in horror. “What have you done?”
“She gave us justice!” Samantha answered harshly. Her face was also a swelled mass of bruises.
In front of Samantha, Kevin was gaping in shock. He didn’t think he was capable of speech.
Seth looked at the beautiful kill-shot pouring blood, at the dead man slowly slumping to the floor. It’s what Adrian would have had Kyle do after the trial.
“Okay,” Seth sighed, suddenly feeling cheated out of his vengeance. “Samantha, get her to the truck. Kevin and I will provide an escort straight to John.”
“No!” Becky shouted. She was naked, bloody and bruised, with Rick’s gun in her hand. “I want to see him burn.”
They had all heard the story of Angela killing the man in Versailles, but did little Becky realize that burning was a curse to keep the man from gaining any peace in the afterlife? Did it matter?
Samantha shrugged at Seth’s questioning look. “I have no problem with it.”
She stepped toward Becky, meaning to cover the girl up.
Becky recoiled violently, almost tripping over the corner of the soiled bed. “Don’t touch me!”
Samantha stopped, throwing Seth a worried glance. “Okay.”
Becky slowly lowered her head and the gun, standing there with no idea what came next. Maybe... M
aybe there is no next.
Picking up on the vibe, Seth held his hand out for the weapon.
Becky flinched again, but Seth didn’t relent. “You don’t need it. I’ve got your six.”
Becky stared back, mind scattered. “Yeah, like before?”
No one moved for a minute at the accusation, and Becky let the gun fall to the carpet. “Stay away. You’ve all done enough.”
The girl slowly turned toward Rick’s body, furious and empty at the same time. “He meant to leave my body here to destroy Safe Haven.”
Becky spat at the evil man, suddenly sure she would never be free of him.
Leaving Seth to deal with it, Kevin gently steered Samantha out of the room, not liking the way she was now staring at Rick’s body. “Come on.”
Seth heard them leave, but didn’t take his attention away from Becky. She had that ‘on-the-edge’ look that wild animals sometimes got when they were cornered. That was the time they were the most likely to bite, and Seth didn’t fancy any more wounds over Rick. The traitor wasn’t worth it.
Becky was only vaguely aware of the warm fluids running down her legs, her face, her neck. What she was feeling most clearly, was lost. She wasn’t happy little Becky anymore, and that injury was terrifying. Now, she would only be the girl who got herself raped by the traitor. “They’ll say I deserved it.”
Seth took his jacket off and carefully placed it around her shoulders. She didn’t react–no violent jump this time–and he casually nudged the gun out of her reach with his boot.
“I do, don’t I?”
“No,” Seth answered, hoping Kevin would think to call in to base. “But he deserved what he got.”
Becky felt the misery waiting for her, the hell Rick had sentenced her to, and shuddered. She would never be the same.
Seth, who had often thought the girl would grow up to be another Tonya, felt something shift in his mind. No one deserved what she’d been through. “This was Rick’s doing, Becky, not yours.”
“Don’t call me that!” Becky ordered, face paling under the bruises. “She’s dead now!”
Seth’s heart lurched. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Becky looked up at him, blood slowly running down her jaw. “I didn’t think anyone would help me. I expect...expected to die here.”
Seth imagined a camp without her, and was surprised to find that the thought bothered him.
“In one minute, I’m going to wrap a clean sheet around you, and then pick you up. Just close your eyes and let me get you to John.”
Seth was expecting the same reaction that Samantha had gotten. He didn’t understand Becky couldn’t stand the sound of Samantha’s voice, let alone the feel of her trying to be helpful.
Becky trembled. “I have to stop on the way–to puke.”
Seth blinked. Where was the emotional flood? The tears? “Okay. Here we go.”
He actually saw her body tense, as if she was terrified that he might do what Rick had. “I won’t hurt you, Rebecca. Neither will the other Eagles.”
“I know that.” But, she didn’t, really. They were men, and men couldn’t be trusted.
Becky went rigid as Seth slid his arms under her, breath coming in short gasps. Unable to do anything more than exactly what he’d asked of her, she closed her eyes and didn’t struggle.
Seth lifted her tiny body as gently as he could, and sensed her clamp down on a scream. His gentle heart lurched. “Easy, baby. Just hang on.”
Seth took her outside with careful steps that still caused her pain and the sentries starting to show up from Kevin’s call saw enough to understand. They turned away in respect and cold fury.
Kevin was waiting with gas cans. “Now?”
Seth nodded, moving for his car and not the one that Samantha was already inside. “Do it, and then find out exactly where John is. Tell him to pull over and wait.”
Inside the now burning house, Rick’s charring skeleton glowered bitterly. Denied peace, over time his ghost might collect the energy of those who passed. If it grew strong enough to commit a murder, he would become solid, regaining a cursed life. That had been the way of things before the war, and it continued, unchanged, afterward. Restless ghosts remain so, because they know death isn’t final.
Chapter Four
In the Garden
1
Angela’s eyes shot open. “It’s done.”
Marc hurried to the bed. “You okay?”
“It’s over now,” she repeated, wanting him to confirm it.
“Yes. The slavers are no longer a threat to anyone.”
“Are you all right?”
Marc forced his gaze away from the ugly wound. “Yes.”
He resumed his seat next to her bed and sent a charming smile. “What about you? Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Angela grunted gently. “Let’s go with that.”
Marc chuckled at the joke because it was expected, thinking he would be extremely glad when Safe Haven arrived. Hopefully, he only had another hour to get through.
“Brady.”
Marc looked over to see the fingers on her injured hand moving. It was a great sign, and he quickly leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Happy for you, honey.”
Angela opened her palm, smiling, and Marc was clear on what she wanted. He gave her the Python he had carefully tended in her stead.
Angela slowly transferred the gun to the blood-crusted holster on her right hip that she had insisted John leave on. Knowing it was there might help keep the nightmares at bay. Angela drifted off while hoping that Becky was able to find something to use in the same manner.
Marc saw that she had fallen asleep and eased out of the chair to go take a turn on sentry duty.
Zack’s second in command came quickly when called, reporting that everything was quiet. The XO expected to be asleep on his bedroll at Angela’s side in about two minutes.
The warehouse they were sheltering in had once held engine parts–Kansas was dotted with places like these and Adrian was stripping them down–but now it served as only another relic of the old world. No one was flying planes or anything else these days–not even flags. But for the one Adrian had up at the mess, it would have been something Marc hadn’t seen since the war.
He stared hard at the surroundings, the cicada-lined trees and waist-high fog rolling through the thick trunks. Almost surreal, Marc thought, taking up a high post.
The rest of the Eagles not with Kyle were perched in various places around the warehouse, tired enough to kill for the slightest reason. It had been a very long trip–one never to be forgotten, no matter how hard they might try.
Marc used his thermal scope to search for heat signatures that would indicate something alive. He saw only dark, still forms and tried to keep his nerves under control. A sense of being unprotected coated the area. In the hours since parting from Adrian, the unease had only increased, and Marc again found himself longing for the camp’s noisy arrival. It had become home without him realizing it.
Marc heard the soft murmur of voices and knew Allan and Angie were talking. She was a lot stronger now, thanks to whatever Adrian had done. Marc had also figured out that staying away was the best thing the witch could do to help. Angela had been too weak for the demon to come forward, and even now, that fiery spirit only came in curt, unsympathetic visits. The sharing of energy between her and Angela was something he hadn’t known about, and Marc wondered suddenly if Adrian had.
Faced with too much time to think, Marc let his mind ponder Adrian a bit deeper than usual. It was hard not to after everything that had happened. The blond man was in charge of an ever-growing camp of armed survivors who would banish him when they found out who he had been and what he’d done. Rather than finding a way to get them to accept it, Adrian was busy fixing the flaws of the old world.
Marc flashed to his first nights in camp, when he’d learned about the double standard for some parts of their population. Ray was where Angie had been, starting o
ver, but without his blinders anymore. Even the reporter would be a convert now. Why would so clever a leader not find a way for his people to accept the truth?
No answer came, and Marc wondered which way he would fall when it all came out. Would he and Angie be side-by-side in defense, or would they end up on opposite teams? It was hard to guess at. He was sure the truth would emerge eventually, but he no longer had the driving urge to help it happen.
Clearly, neither did Cynthia. She had insisted on being a part of Adrian’s guard when he left, but she’d spent a hard minute picking. Adrian only taking three men–Seth, Jeff, and John–had made the choice for her. Marc hadn’t realized that Angie had the support of the camp’s women, but it was clear from hearing about Anne and watching Cynthia that she had been subtly manipulating her own choices into place. Angela was so much like Adrian that it was horrifying. How bad would it get over time? Would she end up scarred and missing limbs, using her gifts openly for the camp upon their asking? A real-life Merlin for Safe Haven’s King. Was that the master plan?
Marc refused to let himself answer, staring at shadowy main road the camp would come down. Why did life always seem to get harder?
2
John studied his wife from the passenger seat of the ambulance. He had been waiting here for her when she got in, and his accusing expression had been enough to stop even a word of welcome between them. Not sure what all he needed to say, John had kept quiet, allowing them to hear the faint gunshots under the storm, and almost an hour had passed.
Anne followed the blurry lights of the rig in front of them, aware of her husband’s disapproval. She knew why, even though he hadn’t said anything. She finally let out a harsh sigh.
“You don’t make the patients wait this long. Why me, Mr. Harmon?”
John blinked, not used to hearing so sharp a tone from her. “You lied to me, Mrs. Harmon. That’s why.”
