The McClane Apocalypse Book Eight

by Kate Morris

  “Yeah, sure. That’s believable.” She removes her wet ball cap and places it on the desk.

  “Enfilading fire. John was set up in front of the enemy, Kelly, too, eventually. Then we came in from the sides and behind the enemy and took them out. Basically. Nutshell version.”

  He shrugs and crosses one foot over his knee, trying to appear casual. She knows how much he hates killing and hurting people. It had to be so hard on him.

  “Did you snipe?”

  “Of course, Sam. Why do you want to know all of this?”

  She frowns and says, “I just want to know what happened. I was worried about…all of you guys. It was stressful. It’s always stressful when you have family in trouble and can’t be there with them to help out.”

  “Everything turned out all right,” he says. “Except for the few that we lost.”

  “All things considered, I’d say it went better than we could’ve expected,” she says sadly.

  “Right.”

  “John said something about you saving Cory’s life,” she says with curiosity.

  “Not really. I’m sure he would’ve been fine even without my help.”

  She bumps her knee against his. “Don’t be so humble. What happened?”

  “RPG. They had a lot of heavy weaponry. I just didn’t want him to take shrapnel from the wall or have stuff hit him. He’s pretty valuable in a fight.”

  “And in the family,” she points out. “And as your friend.”

  He snorts and wrinkles his nose in a sarcastic way.

  “He is, Simon. Cory’s your best friend. Don’t be that way.”

  He looks at her and says, “You always say that you’re my best friend.”

  “Not anymore,” she says without missing a beat.

  He allows his leg to lean into hers and says, “We could be again. If you want to.”

  Sam quickly looks away and then at her feet.

  “I already told you how I feel. After we get through this, I’m going home to Henry’s farm and staying there. Maybe I’ll come to town for a visit in the fall or something.”

  “If you just come to town, you won’t be able to see everyone back on the farm who doesn’t come to town.”

  “Then I won’t.”

  “Won’t come to town or won’t come to the farm?”

  Sam sighs and says, “Maybe I won’t come to either. I’ll just go home to Henry’s farm and not come back. It’s probably what’s best anyway.”

  “I hate that you’re starting to consider his farm as your home.”

  His expression is pained but also holds a lot of anger and contempt.

  “It’s where I belong. My uncle lives there. I’ve made new friends. It’s my new home.”

  He rises swiftly, grabs the arms of her chair, yanks her to him using the wheels, and tips her back. Her feet no longer touch the floor. Then he leans down over her, hovering there, coming eye to eye, nearly nose to nose. Sam can feel his breath mingling with hers. He’s not wearing his eyeglasses, so she can see the gold specks in his blue eyes being this close.

  “You belong at the farm. His farm is not your home,” Simon growls.

  She opens her mouth to argue but instead inhales sharply, holding it. Apparently, it draws his attention there because Simon’s eyes shift from her eyes to her mouth.

  “What are you doing?” she finally whispers after a long moment.

  “I hardly know anymore,” Simon admits as if he is a defeated man.

  He leans in, his eyes hooded as if under the influence of some sort of euphoric drug. Then he presses his lips lightly to hers.

  “Simon, no,” Sam says weakly and turns her head to the side.

  He doesn’t snap back as she expected he would but presses his nose against her neck below her ear. His hands tighten on the arms of the chair, making the leather squeak and groan from the pressure. He inhales deeply and presses his lips against her skin, sending a chill down her spine.

  “Simon, don’t,” she whispers pathetically.

  He doesn’t but continues to kiss a trail down her neck to its base where it meets her clavicle. Part of her wishes that she would’ve chosen a more concealing t-shirt than one with a deep vee. He tugs the chair closer until her neck is forced to arch. Then he kisses another trail up her neck and to her chin.

  “Say it,” he says, hovering over her mouth with his own. “Say you don’t belong there.”

  Sam’s brow furrows and her eyelids feel heavy.

  “You belong on the farm,” he repeats.

  Sam tries to shake her head, but Simon captures her mouth with his to silence her. It is a control tactic, but she can’t seem to find the courage to push him away or argue. His mouth moves greedily on hers, and the second she yields, Simon swiftly encircles her waist and pulls her off of the chair, off her feet and up against him as he stands in one fluid motion. It has a dizzying effect on her senses. His lips never leave hers, and Sam is forced to hold onto his shoulders for support.

  She wants to stop him but can’t manage to find the words. His kiss is intense and unforgiving, and she has longed for him. He is not giving her the opportunity to argue with him as his tongue touches lightly against her lips, seeking entrance. He doesn’t ask permission. He is simply taking as he plunges his tongue into her mouth and groans. Sam is left breathless and panting against him.

  Simon steps forward and places her bottom on the corner of the desk. Sam leans back, breaking contact with him for an instant. His hands slide down to her hips and tug her close. Then he insinuates himself between her legs roughly without asking again. He shoves both hands into her hair. Simon still smells like rainwater mixed with medicinal herbs but tastes like mint tea. He pulls her face upward into his again and proceeds to kiss her in a more leisurely manner as if he has nowhere else to be. His stethoscope swings between them, bumping into her chest. Sam clings to his shoulder with one hand and slides her other up his chest until they find purchase in the top of his t-shirt where she grips it tightly. Her fingers brush back and forth against the base of his neck. Simon moans into her mouth and allows his hands to flow down her back to rest on her hips. His fingers dig into her skin through her jeans, igniting an all-new fire within her. She pulls his stethoscope from his neck and lets it fall, somewhere.

  One hand slides up her back to grasp a handful of her hair. Then Simon tugs, pulling her head back so that he can kiss her neck, causing her to shiver under his touch.

  “Hello?” someone in the lobby calls. “Dr. Murphy?”

  They both look that way, but Simon doesn’t release her. She sobers and tries to scoot back from him, which he will not allow. His eyes keenly watch the open doorway to see if someone is going to come in. His fingers on her hips stay her from moving away. Then he looks back at her and grins with something akin to a malicious glint in his eyes. Instead of stepping away, Simon wraps one arm around her and lifts her from the desk until she is standing in front of him looking up into his face. He slowly bends in front of her to retrieve his stethoscope. He rises even slower until he is standing straight again, staring at her body the whole way with the same lopsided grin.

  “Don’t threaten me not to come to the farm anymore,” he warns quietly.

  Sam is too stunned to retort a response, and he is gone in the next instant anyway. She takes a second to right her clothing and tries to appear composed, although she feels anything but. Sam joins Simon in the lobby where he is speaking to Melora. She seems upset as Sam approaches, pulling a rubber band into her hair to keep it back in a bun.

  “Hi again, Sam,” Melora says with a worried smile.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, avoiding looking at Simon, although she can tell he is not doing the same.

  “Two of the kids woke up just now with fevers and chills. I don’t know what it is. We had a problem like this a few weeks ago, but this seems worse. I don’t know what to do. I felt bad for even coming here for help because I know how busy you were last night and probably today, too.”


  “It’s no problem,” Simon tells her and rests a hand on her shoulder like Grandpa does with patients’ families. “Sam, I’ll go take a look at the kids. Would you like to start on morning rounds and check on the patients across the street?”

  “Um, sure,” she replies, not sure why he doesn’t want her to go with him and also not sure how he is so calm and collected while she is a ball of nerves inside from their kissing episode. She can still feel the impression of his lips on hers.

  Melora is more than thankful and tells them so many times as she waits on the front porch for Simon to gather what he needs. He returns to the reception room a moment later with his bag.

  “The radio’s in the office. Call me if you need something,” he orders. Sam doesn’t answer but stares at him. He prompts her impatiently, “Sam?”

  “Fine, I’ll call you.”

  “Will you be alright while I’m gone?” he asks, standing directly in front of her.

  “I’ll probably be better,” she smarts off with a frown.

  Simon chuckles. “Probably. Probably safer, too.”

  Sam squints at him, trying to appear cold and angry. It must not come off that way because Simon chucks her under the chin and leaves. Her emotions are a mess. She isn’t sure if she wants to throw something and hit him in the back or beg him to return soon and kiss her again.

  She sighs long and hard and retrieves the patient files to begin checks. One of the men across the street is still running a fever, so she makes a special note on his chart. He doesn’t complain or ask for pain reliever, but the fever is a concern because it could be an infection. Two of their patients now have their wives with them, leading her to speculate that Henry sent for them using his men. She is quite sure that just having their spouses with them will aid in the healing process.

  She finishes at the Victorian house across the street and checks the men in the clinic, one of whom is complaining that he wants to leave already. Sam smiles patiently and pats his arm. His blood pressure is still low, so she’d like for him to rest until Grandpa comes to town later.

  Jotting down notes at the front counter, she’s surprised that over an hour has passed since Melora led Simon away. She is grateful for the work because it keeps her mind occupied. Unfortunately, she’s all caught up with her work, so she strolls outside to get some fresh air. She works on a sketch she’s been doing. Her feelings are so conflicted about Simon. Why does he kiss her if he doesn’t have feelings for her? What does he care if she stays at Dave’s compound instead of the McClane farm if he wants her to move on?

  “Everything ok, Sam?” Henry asks, startling her as she rocks in one of the white rocking chairs on the front porch. She swiftly stows the drawing away.

  “Yes, fine. Thanks. What are you doing?”

  “The sheriff’s wife invited some of us down to the town hall. Guess she made everyone lunch, her and some of the other people here in town.”

  “That was awfully nice of them,” she says, consulting her watch.

  “Would you like to go with me to lunch?” he asks kindly.

  “Um, I kind of feel like I should wait here until Grandpa gets here or Simon comes back.”

  “I talked to Joe’s wife, one of our men who’s staying over there,” he says, pointing to the house across the street. “She said she’d keep an eye on the patients so you can get a bite to eat.”

  “Oh, that was…thoughtful,” Sam says, appreciative of the gesture.

  She nods and stands, following Henry down the front stairs of the practice right as Simon strolls up with Melora.

  “Where are you going?” he asks with unconcealed anger and a deep crease between his brows to match.

  “I’m taking Samantha to lunch,” Henry says, capturing her hand gently in his.

  “You aren’t taking her anywhere,” Simon growls angrily, drawing a surprised look from Melora, who probably just witnessed his tender and caring side as he took care of the ill children in her group.

  Henry’s posture immediately stiffens up, and he says, “Excuse me?”

  “Simon,” Sam warns and narrows her eyes at him.

  “Hey, guys!” John says as he jogs over to them.

  “John!” Sam says and waves with a false smile. “When’d you guys get here?”

  “Just did,” he says. “Brought Doc with me. He’s detained talking to people, of course. Watcha’ up to, kiddo?”

  “Going to lunch,” she says, her hand still enclosed in Henry’s, which feels strange.

  Simon steps forward, but John literally steps in front of him and presses a hand to his chest.

  “Professor, I need to talk to you about something if you don’t mind and got a sec,” he says.

  Simon’s eyes dart to John’s and then around him at Henry. Sam needs no further encouragement and tugs Henry’s hand. By the look in Simon’s dark eyes, there is about to be a fight. She’s seen this before in him, usually when he gets ready to kill someone. He looked like this when he’d clobbered Cory to a bloody pulp in the dirt. It’s definitely time to get out of here. She’s sure of what Simon can do, but she does not know of Henry’s abilities.

  “Ready?” she says, trying to appear cheerful and anxious instead of frantic and nauseous.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says in a lower than normal tone, also staring down Simon.

  They are not going to be friends, Sam can tell by this one, simple moment. John looks over his shoulder and raises his chin to her, letting Sam know to get the heck out of the area. She wastes no time and actually walks faster than Henry, who is considerably taller than her.

  Henry glances over his shoulder twice to look at Simon, who is standing there now arguing with John and sending his own seething looks their way. He finally throws his hands in the air and stalks off to the medical house, leaving John with Melora.

  She and Henry walk to the town hall where they run into Kelly, who she greets, and also who doesn’t miss the fact that she’s holding hands with Henry. He raises his eyebrows once and offers an ornery grin. She isn’t sure why, but his reaction tells her that he is in on something of which she is not privy. How had John instantly known that something was about to go down between Henry and Simon, too? Maybe they are just more intuitive than most men.

  Sam dines with Henry, observing him around his friends, one of whom swears in front of her, which earns him a look from Henry- a simple raised eyebrow. The young man, likely her age, immediately apologizes to Sam and looks put in his place. The sheriff’s wife, Doreen, has made a feast of slow-roasted turkey, roasted vegetables, and fresh berry lemonade. The McClane family also has lemons that get donated, but Grandpa reserves them for medicinal use instead of consumption. One of the other women in town brings baskets of fresh-baked rolls. It all tastes great, but Sam is too conflicted to eat much.

  Her heart is torn and confused. Henry smiles and talks a lot during lunch, more than usual. She even laughs a few times at the things he says and the way he jokes with his buddies. But the feel of Simon’s lips on hers is still fresh in her memory, and it is those memories on which she keeps focusing. From time to time, she even loses track of the conversation around her because she is thinking about him touching her, pulling her close, demanding that she respond.

  “I should head back,” Sam says to Henry the moment she is finished with her meal. She really does need to return. There are patients who need their help, and she’d still like to know what is going on with the Campbell Kids because she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with Simon about them because he was a boiling kettle.

  “So soon? You do need to take breaks, ya’ know,” Henry teases.

  “I do. I take breaks, but with so many wounded, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

  Sam swings a leg over and exits the picnic table. Then, being completely ungraceful trips on the curb when she steps down. Henry grabs her arm and pulls her back up, and against him.

  One of his men says, “Are you alright, ma’am?”

&n
bsp; “Oh, yes,” she says, totally embarrassed for being such a dork.

  “Careful, Miss Sam,” another says. “Don’t want the farmer to have a heart attack.”

  “The farmer?” she asks.

  “Nothing, are you ready?” Henry says and leads her away.

  “What’d they mean?”

  “It’s nothing. Just a nickname,” he answers as they walk.

  Sam smiles. “They call you The Farmer?”

  She just gets an awkward shrug and a shake of his head.

  Sam laughs and says, “Yes, I suppose it fits.”

  Henry attempts to hold her hand again, but Sam pulls back. At his hurt expression, she apologizes, “Sorry. That…that’s just…sorry.”

  She doesn’t know how to correctly express what she’s feeling. She can hardly tell him that she’d been kissing Simon this morning, not when she’s not even sure why it happened, either. It’s confusing for her, so it will be even more so for Henry.

  “That’s fine. I’m a patient guy, Sam,” he tells her with a kind smile.

  Everything about Henry is kind. He’s sweet and giving, open and honest, so many things that Simon is not, especially about being transparent with her regarding his feelings.

  “Yeah, I know,” she acknowledges.

  They walk side by side to the clinic where she finds Kelly and John standing near the front porch. Their backs are turned to them, and they appear to be in a deep conversation. It sounds like they are discussing the looted weaponry that they confiscated from the enemy. She overhears something about a mortar launcher and RPG. They both turn and send friendly waves in their direction, and Henry returns theirs with one of his own.

  “I’d better get back to work,” she says with a nod. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he says.

  Sam turns to go, but Henry grabs her hand and swiftly pulls her to him where his arm slips around her back. He kisses her fast and briefly, just a speedy peck against her mouth, but it catches her off-guard, nonetheless. It is also much more intimate than what he’s done in the past. And a whole lot more public. He releases her as quickly as he’d captured her. It was definitely a sneak attack.