by Angela White
She defiantly held his gaze. “We’re white. He’s gonna do that anyway.”
There was a lot of truth to the statement, and she leaned against him, sensing growing weakness. “It’ll be great. Just the two of us and you’ll never be alone.”
His eyes darkened, and his words surprised her even though it was what she wanted to hear. “It’ll have to be fast and while they’re drinking. Be ready.”
4
“She went for it already?”
Rick told him everything word for word, as he always did, trying not to let the Slaver’s rank odors blow over his scruffy face as they stood just out of sight of the tent Samantha was in.
“She is smart. Talk to her only a little. Sneak out on one of the twins’ horses.” Cesar fingered the handle of the knife in his belt as the light, cool wind blew by them. “You will contact me in two weeks. If you do not…”
The Mexican let his words trail off, and Rick gave in with no fight, shame not even in the picture anymore. “You’ll have what you want, just like in Trinidad and Boulder. This plan always works.”
Cesar met his eye with a cruel sneer. “And what reward do you ask, White man, for betraying your people? Again.”
Rick didn’t deny or even flinch, didn’t feel anything at the jab. They were not his people anymore. They hadn’t been since the War. “The woman, until I’m tired of her.”
Cesar’s dark eyes narrowed. “There are no white unions here!”
“Not a union. My slave.”
Scowling, Cesar slammed his deformed hand on top of his dirty sombrero to keep a gust of wind from stealing it. “If there were to be a child, it would be killed.”
Rick’s eyes were hard as he snorted. “I want her, not some screaming shit machine. If she comes up pregnant, I’ll make it go away.”
Cesar didn’t doubt the tone. “Deal. Don’t forget. Two weeks and you will deliver this Safe Haven to me.”
5
“You two will follow. Make sure your Witch is with them. We’ll be along,” Cesar ordered quietly, watching Rick go back to the white woman.
The twins hovered in the shadows, eager to do as instructed, so they could be sure she was indeed what they’d said. The tracks from the school might have led them to her, but the twins had lost them in a sewer drain, and hadn’t been able to find the tracks again, despite checking exits for hours.
The weeks that had gone by had made them doubt themselves, and if she wasn’t what they’d thought, then they would just keep going. Cesar had already put a lot of time and effort into this now. He’d made strong plans based around the control of such a power, and to be denied, would mean someone's life. It was a big risk they were taking - knowing they’d likely be caught and killed in the future if they had to run - but the need for revenge on the woman and her protector was undeniable. And if she was what they thought, then they would gain something any man would risk his life for. Complete control.
Now feeling on top of what could be a future problem, Cesar watched them go. First, the twins as they left to hide and follow, and then Rick and the woman, sneaking through the shadows. He had no doubts the traitor would contact him. The men here had no rules, no chores, just sex and drinking, with killing thrown in for fun. It was the real American dream, Cesar thought, gold tooth gleaming as he grinned cruelly. His dream, and he’d kill any group that tried to change things back. America was in for a long storm season.
Chapter Thirty Five
March 30th, 2013
Near Chadron, Nebraska
1
“We are an American Red Cross Convoy picking up survivors. We offer food, shelter, medical care and protection. Does anyone copy?”
“We hear you, Safe Haven! We’re in Hot Springs. We’re out of food. Are you close?”
The man’s voice that answered was different from the one they’d been hearing regularly for the last week, and Marc and Angela both stopped cleaning up their late lunch to listen to the conversation. It was nearly three o’clock, and they needed to get moving again, but the waves of authority from that voice were impossible to ignore. To Marc's ears, he sounded military.
“Close enough. How many people?”
“Twelve. Two are sick. We don’t know what it is.”
“That’s a lie,” Angela stated, able to hear it, read it, in the woman’s shaky voice.
“We offer help to everyone, sick or not. Do you know Morse or phonetic code?”
“I know both, but go slow, it’s been a while.”
“You an ex-sailor by any chance, Hot Water?”
The surprise was clear in her voice, “Nancy, and yes, for seven years. How’d you know that?”
The Safe Haven man’s tone was laced lightly with a comforting humor, “Because of the slight edge of dislike in your words. Marines and Navy didn’t usually mix.”
“No Sir, they didn’t.”
“They do now. We’re all soldiers in the same fight for survival. Take down this message.”
“He tells his men that too,” Angela muttered, listening in more ways than one.
The taps came slowly enough for Angela - who’d been learning the code from Marc - to understand, and she frowned deeper. “They’re in the Black Hills. That’s only one day from us.”
Over the hood, Marc's eyes locked onto hers, the words silent and full of longing, "I want more time."
"Me too."
"Can’t we?"
Silence…
Two days would be All Fools’ Day. Was it an omen?
Marc frowned. “You all right?”
Angela stared at the vast field of corn that ran as far as the eye could see on both sides. They were only about five miles from the Nebraska-South Dakota state line, where there were barbed wire fences and grass struggling to survive along the side of the road, but no trees. Except for a faded red barn with a tall, blue grain silo on one side, there was only corn here.
“Angie?” She turned to look at him, and Marc hated to see the fear in her eyes. It hadn’t been there much in the last weeks, she had worked hard to overcome her weaknesses, and he was still amazed by how fast she’d done it. “You could call now. Talk to your boy.”
Angela shook her head, pushing the fear back as her mother’s heart spewed awful words at the refusal. “I don’t want Kenn to know how close we are.”
She turned away with a sigh. “And we need to talk, Brady, about what happens when we get there.”
Marc straightened up, heart thumping. “After we make camp tonight?”
“Let’s stay here. Meet up with them in the next few days,” she stated quietly, eyes wandering over large circles of charred dirt that reminded her of the empty silo holes they’d seen in middle Nebraska.
Marc’s frown grew. They had just covered three hundred miles in nine days, driving continuously. Last night, he’d had to insist they rest and get ready to face whatever was coming. They had only made one long stop to replace his Blazer (again they were identical, the only one they had found was the exact match to hers. Fate…), and she had been pushing them hard to get here. Now she was hanging back. Nerves?
“Are you sure? We could be there by dusk tomorrow.”
“No. It’s already been ninety eight days. A few more won’t matter.”
Marc took a step toward her. “You can’t put it off, Honey. Just face it, and we’ll go from there.”
Angela watched Dog patrol the edges of the shoulder-high corn, knowing she had to let him in on what she was feeling, thinking. “I’m not avoiding, but I am nervous. I’m cutting ropes, erasing his hold on me, and he’ll hate it, hate me for it. You need to have the details you asked for back in Indiana.”
She met his eye with complete openness. “Will you drill me on the things you’ve taught me, remind me that I can fight back?”
Marc’s heart broke for her. “I think that’s a great idea. You’ve gotten a lot stronger. He won’t know how to handle you.”
2
“Faster. You can handle it.”
Angela pushed the pedal down and the Blazer leapt forward, throwing them back.
“On my mark. Just like before.”
Angela was concentrating, hands and feet connected to the thrum of the engine, the vibrations of the tires.
“Now.”
She turned the wheel, jerking up on the emergency brake, and then they were spinning in the dusty street, seat belts holding them in place.
“Now.”
Gunning the engine, Angela straightened the Blazer out, and it shot forward.
“Again. Seventy this time.”
Angela mashed the gas, emboldened by her repeated successes, and managed to make the emergency turn on her own. She grinned, waved at the line of dirty, faded targets they had come to a stop facing. “Next?”
Marc nodded and made another mistake that would later haunt him. “Loser has dishes!”
Angela took off at his challenge, heading for the distant line of dented soda cans they’d set up. Grinning, distracted by her obvious happiness, Marc gave chase, leaving their nearly identical vehicles in the middle of the street for anyone to see.
Angela was able to match him shot for shot until he moved the cans back so far she could barely see them. After missing half and him missing none, she put her gun away. “That’s not really a challenge for you, is it?”
Marc shrugged, looking at her with shuttered eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe. Kenn’s very good. Go stand by that speed limit sign. I wanna see.”
Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment. “If you like.”
It was amazing to watch. When she asked him to move farther back, he did it with no comment, just a curious look she chose not to respond to. He was wondering if she was seeing a showdown between him and her man…and she was.
He didn’t miss a single shot, and Angela knew instinctively that this still wasn’t very hard for him. Marc was good. Better than anyone else she’d ever seen, maybe even Kenn, who liked to take her to the range, but not let her shoot. Designed to rub in how defenseless she was, it was yet another reaction that said these two men were worlds apart. Kenn had been her warden, while Marc... He was her protector. He made her feel safe, she realized, watching him reholster his gun and move toward her. He was a good man; one she trusted, cared about…one she still wanted.
Angela smelled him as he stepped by, smoke, sweat, and deep underneath, sexy, musky man. Her nostrils flared, and she inhaled deeply, instinctively, before it was gone. Feeling the restless yearning of her heart, she turned away, suddenly lost and hurting. They’d missed so much!
“You all right?”
It was a question he couldn’t stop asking, and she smiled, looking at a thinner layer of sky grit instead of his handsome face. She could almost see the sun again, but even the good things couldn’t distract her from the fear, the desires. There was no way this would end well. “Just thinking.”
“Care to share?”
She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “No.”
Marc could feel her unease, her sadness, and he tried one last time to get her to take the easy way out. “Let’s just grab him and go. We’ll find some other people to settle down and rebuild with.”
“I can’t.”
Marc sighed, eyes on her face. “Because you owe him.”
Angela shook her head, choosing to give him complete honesty, whether he was ready to hear it or not. “Not anymore. When he left me out here to fend for myself - hoping I couldn’t, that I wouldn’t - that cancelled our deal more than anything else he’s done.”
“Then why?”
“It’s hard to explain. I’m going for my son, but there’s something else that’s pulling at me too, at the other side of me. I dream a lot. I’m sure you know.”
He knew very well. The nightmares had come less often, but when they did, they seemed worse. Twice, she’d woken him up screaming about a metal monster.
“I see a refugee camp most nights, and it’s full of people. Our kind of people and they need help. I want to belong there. I want us to be a part of that protection.”
There wasn’t a lot Marc could say. Being alone with her was great, but it couldn’t stay this way. “In the same group as your man? Don’t you think that’s asking a little much?”
She stuck a cigarette in her mouth. “Of course it is. For now, our son’s all that matters, anyway. We’ll handle it as it comes.”
“Remember the night we made him?” Marc hadn’t meant to say it out loud and was relieved to see her blush rather than get scared or mad.
“No, not so much.”
“Ouch. That hurts.” He feigned being crushed, aware that he really felt it - he’d thought of little else during sex for the last fifteen years.
Her eyes softened a bit. “Don’t ask questions unless…”
“…you’re prepared to hear the answer,” he finished, laughing with her.
“We could talk about it,” Marc teased. “Maybe you’d recall.”
“No need to.”
“So you do?” Marc watched her eyes turn a smoky, midnight blue and tensed.
Angela was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “All the time, at first, Brady. I’d think about you, and I’d wonder what raven-haired, blue-eyed whore you were with. I’d wonder if you were able to sleep afterwards, if you stayed until morning and kissed her lips, if you promised to love her forever as you walked out the door.”
Marc took a step closer, heart aching. “No Angie, to all of it. I’ve only had one love, only said it once, and I meant it. Forever hasn’t come yet.”
A tear spilled from under her dark lashes, “Don’t. It hurts.”
“I’d take it away if I could.”
“You have some of it. Knowing you came back means something to me.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“Truce?” He held out a hand, and she shook it, smiling. “Didn’t know we were at war.”
Angela let her hand linger, the contact with another human, sliding across her skin in warmth, was something she had missed. When he moved toward her, she held still, needing to see if the stray curls of want she’d been feeling were real. Could she be whole in time?
Marc saw her nostrils flare as his hands came up to her face, and she closed her eyes when his palm slid along her cheek, thumb rubbing lightly across her bottom lip.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, head leaning forward. “A Goddess.” Marc pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, felt her sudden intake of breath. Not sure if it was fear or desire, he pulled back. “Angie?”
Her hands curled into balls, wanting his kiss, wanting to be faithful. Not sure, either, about that flood of heat low in her gut, Angela stepped into his arms and tilted her mouth up.
Marc didn’t give her time to change her mind.
Angela stiffened as his hand went to the back of her head, but the mouth against hers was sweet…musky…he tugged her closer, and she curled her arms around his neck, lost in the first real passion she had felt in too many years.
Marc deepened the kiss, let their tongues touch, rub, and the doors between their minds swung open, thoughts mixing.
“Missed you!”
“Need you!”
“Taste like a woman.”
“Smell like a man.”
“My Woman.”
“My Man.”
The last one made Angela gasp against his mouth, and she slammed the doors, broke the kiss in surprise. So much feeling in a single embrace!
Marc stepped back, turned away to lie. “I’m sorry.”
“Brady.”
Her voice was rough, sexy, and he looked back slowly, prepared to hear almost anything.
“It wasn’t fear.”
Marc grinned as she turned away, body hard, and heart light. It was going to be a good day.
Angela’s thoughts were along the same line, and she was hoping that feeling would stay with her throu
gh the hard reunion she knew was coming. She had a plan of action based on what little she’d picked up about the people Kenn was with. Marc would have to watch his back, but there might be a chance for peace if her Marine could be reasoned with. She would know within the first few hours of being around his people, if that stood a chance. If not, she would use the backup - they’d run. After all this time with Brady, there was no way she could go back to being what she’d been before – caged. There was no way the Witch or the old Angela would allow that. They’d kill Kenny first.
3
Angela ducked under his arm, grunting in effort as she spun and dropped, throwing her leg out to trip him. Anticipating her, Marc jumped, but she’d counted on that and immediately spun again, her leg catching his ankle as he landed.
Tripping, he rolled forward. Marc was on his feet in an instant, turning, and knew she was already there, and he was impressed.
Angela used the palms of both hands to shove him, hard, and for the first time since he’d begun to teach her, Marc landed on his ass in the dirt, grunting at the impact. “Very, very good. Now, do it again.”
Angela rushed him the second he was upright, eyes going to his right. When he defended the left, she came straight up the middle, hands going to his big arms, leg sweeping him again as she shoved and ducked the fingers that tried to pull her along as he fell.
“That’s was great,” he praised, starting to get back up.
“Don’t move!”
Her tone froze him with his hands splayed out in the dirt. He sensed movement near his fingers as she slowly drew her weapon.
“Roll to your right when I start, and come up firing. Targets at ten, two and three.”
Marc heard the soft pad of paws, more than one, and watched her eyes for the moment to react.
“Shit. Two more at 12 o’ clock,” Angela watched the three lanky, gray-and-white wolves, trying to judge their intentions. When a big black-and-gold animal she hadn’t seen lunged toward from the shadows, there was only time to react.
