by Angela White
The halls here were bright and clean, showing pride and tradition at every corner through plaques, maps, flags, and awards. Marc found it all a bit gaudy, much too pristine to be associated with gritty Marines.
Marc picked up the dangling receiver. “Brady here.”
“Uh, hello. This is the Shoshone National Forest Service. Are you the Marcus Brady that I met in Wyoming?”
“Hello, JD,” Marc greeted the man in relief. He’d recognized the voice. “How are you?”
“Great, now that Bubba’s been transferred. Hey, thanks for taking my call. When they said you were in class, I wasn’t positive that I even had the right number.”
Marc chuckled at the POG opinion. Persons other than grunts had no idea what went on inside the military. They assumed that if the men weren’t fighting evil, they were drinking or getting into trouble. The fact that college classes were mandatory for most of the promotions hadn’t been fed into stereotypical minds.
“What can I do for you, JD?”
“You know, after we came back, I realized I recognized you.”
“Oh?” Marc commented, going cold. “How’s that?”
“You were in a newspaper article I read. Something about a mob family and the youngest son being the reason they all went to jail.”
“Is there something I can help you with?” Marc demanded stonily. Flashes of his past were never welcome.
“Hey, no, don’t take it that way! I wanted to tell you that I respect what you did. It couldn’t have been easy.”
“No,” Marc agreed stiffly. “Is that all you wanted?”
“Well, no. You know that wolf we were chasing? He’s back and I’m curious as to how that happened.”
“Very long story,” Marc answered truthfully. “What do you mean by back?”
“He’s been a regular visitor here for weeks. We, uh, can’t get rid of him.”
“He went tame?”
“We’re not certain, exactly. He hunts and brings his kills here to eat. He has a nice collection of bones growing under our porch.”
“Is that normal?” Marc asked, wondering if the wolf was damaged because of what had happened. He was. The amount of trust that Marc now had for people was nearing zero.
“No, but he isn’t aggressive towards us, so we won’t shoot him. We’re not supposed to interfere unless we have to.”
“Good,” Marc approved. “Is that all he’s doing? Just won’t leave?”
“He whines.”
The frustration in that answer told Marc all he needed to know. Chuckling, he asked, “What do you think his problem is?”
“Honestly? I think he wants you.”
Marc was speechless for a moment. He’d felt a bond, but hadn’t thought the wolf had.
“Mr. Brady?”
“Marc.”
“Cool. Marc, I’d like you to come up, if you can. We’ll videotape it, of course, for our studies.”
“I just got here, JD. I can’t leave for at least three more weeks and maybe not for as long as five. Busy stuff here.”
“I understand, but if you can come any sooner, it would be appreciated. The noise is rather distracting.”
“I’ll try,” Marc agreed reluctantly. The Captain wasn’t going to like this.
Marc hung up and spent a moment considering the best way to handle things. Captain Palmer had offered the wolf a place in one of the training programs. He could ask if that was still open. If so, he might be able to get a leave of absence.
You hate it here. You’re using this as an excuse.
Marc sighed. Deep down, he did hate it here. He wanted to be with his team. He hadn’t expected to come in so lowly ranked and treated.
Marc dialed his CO, making the choice. He would go check on the wolf and help if he could. After that, he would come back and put his heart into the lessons. He owed it to young Marc to explore every opportunity that came his way during his time in the Marines. The things that he’d suffered in childhood had taught him that pain was a means to an end. His time in the service had reinforced that. Sometimes agony was as necessary as breathing. It all depended on the situation.
“Hello, sir. It’s Corporal Marcus Brady. When you get this message, try not to stroke out. Yes, I know I’m a worthless, overrated snotbag who isn’t fit to shine your turds.” Marc automatically delivered a respectful nod to the brass coming down the hallway. “The urge to bust me all the way back to a fuzz-bucket PFC is certainly understandable.”
The senior man walking by remembered his own calls to his CO when life as an officer was beginning and returned the gesture, snickering. Fun times, the Staff Sergeant thought wryly. Fun times.
Marc was still going on with his call. “You should have kicked the shit out of me more often, I completely agree. However, sir, I’ve left Officer School on an unscheduled emergency to pick up my dog. I know you’ll understand and see your way clear to allow me to return in three days so you can beat the living grass from my ass. Thank you, sir!”
Marc hung up, still grinning. He loved being a Marine. That was why he’d chosen to take the non-commissioned courses. Maybe one day, he would follow in Palmer’s infamous footsteps. Right now, he doubted that he could fill those legendary boots. Some time away would help return his confidence. He could pass these classes. When he came back, Marc would prove it to his CO and to himself.
3
The ranger station was a long log cabin set roughly in the center of the park where Marc had been camped when the fire came. Nestled between tall trees and thick bushes, the building was inviting.
It had taken Marc a full day to fly down and then drive in with a rental truck. He hadn’t trusted any of their beater cars to make some of the hairpin curves up here. His jeep had been lost to Chad. Crisp had told him later that the vehicle had been burned.
Marc pulled to a stop in front of the wide cabin, discerning shadows in the windows that told him the rangers inside were aware of his arrival.
Marc took his time getting out, studying things the way he always had, but also using the short amount of officer training that he’d soaked up. The classes were easy, full of great information. The hard part was dealing with the people. The hostility until he proved himself yet again was nearly intolerable.
Marc spotted the pile of fly-covered bones and remains under the front corner of the porch, thinking the wolf was making up for the meals that he’d missed. The rabbit and deer population here would probably be light this year.
Marc climbed from the hot truck. After three weeks, the wolf was likely feral again, meaning he’d made this trip for nothing. The rangers would eventually drive the wolf back into the wilderness where he belonged.
JD came out to meet him. “He spends hours out hunting every day. Should be coming in shortly.”
“How’s he been?” Marc held out a hand that JD shook.
“Same as when I called, except that he howls now. Glad you could come down. There aren’t many families around here, but we’ve already had two calls about wolves. Sometimes the locals can get legislation passed that makes us remove them.”
“What if he finds a mate or something? A new pack?” Marc asked.
“We hoped for either of those when we first saw him, but he hasn’t changed his pattern. We keep track of wolves for the yearly census and he doesn’t go far. He hunts, drinks, and then comes here to eat, sleep, and howl. To mate or find a pack, he’d have to go searching. That’s what they usually do. Wolves have a wide range, but he’s different. He won’t leave.”
“Like he’s waiting for me,” Marc realized.
JD smiled, curious. “You got time to tell us how he escaped?”
“Chewed right through the crate,” Marc quickly supplied. Even if the truth wasn’t classified, he never told his stories to strangers. That type of fame was for politicians and writers.
“Well, I’ll be damned. We’ll put that in the next set of requisition notes.”
Marc picked out the wolf’s shadow coming
through the dense trees. He motioned for JD to move away, but the man was already retreating to the short porch to observe. The video camera in the window had been running since Marc got out of the truck.
The wolf went straight toward his stash, carrying a plump rabbit by a broken neck.
Marc waited for his scent to reach the animal over the blood of his kill. They were roughly ten feet apart when the wolf glanced up, sniffing.
“You’re slacking,” Marc scolded, not joking. “You didn’t even see me.”
The rabbit dropped to the ground as the wolf trotted over to Marc with his tail up and tongue out. Instead of the nip that Marc was braced for, the wolf immediately sank down on top of his boots, curling to cover them both.
JD chuckled from the porch, but Marc nodded in understanding. He bent down carefully and extended his hand. “If you bite me this time, I’m punching you in the nose.”
The wolf’s snout drew up, teeth showing, but a whimper came from his throat instead of a growl. Marc turned his hand over, letting his scent be taken in deeper.
The wolf licked his palm.
Marc snorted quietly and rubbed the beautiful fur under the wolf’s chin. Gentle but firm, he tried to convey pleasure to the animal in return for being allowed to touch him.
The wolf’s tongue lolled out, but he still twisted his head toward Marc’s leg as he enjoyed the petting. He wasn’t letting the man go this time. He’d returned to his release place to find Marc gone, with no way to track him. He’d made his way here soon after, hoping one of the humans would bring his alpha back. He tried to return to the wild, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t his home anymore.
Marc straightened up. “I have papers for him.”
“Yeah, your squad leader called. Good man. He said to get you done and out of here.”
Marc pried a boot out from under the docile wolf. “I’m a-goin’.”
He slid into the driver’s seat of the truck to retrieve the papers. Before he could do anything else, the wolf jumped into his lap, growling lowly. The heavy animal quickly slid into the empty passenger side and stared at him with resentful golden orbs.
JD came over to Marc’s door and shut it. He took the papers Marc handed him, still laughing in amazement. “That’s some friend you’ve made.”
“Dog,” Marc corrected.
The wolf’s ears snapped up.
“Yep.” Marc snickered. “I guess we’ll be around again for vacation, when I have time off.”
JD shuddered in mock apprehension. “I’ll put the fire marshal on alert.”
Marc stared. “You know.”
JD nodded, tucking a hand into his belt. “Who do you think helped cover the bodies? Local law enforcement doesn’t function here. I do.”
Marc hadn’t realized the military would have a relationship this far out. He wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or felt like his privacy was gone.
As if he read the thought, JD shook his head. “That’s someone else’s job. I’m a lackey.”
“Well, I’m a future mustang, so no hard feelings on my end,” Marc conceded. He held out a hand, shaking with the man. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“Hey!” another ranger yelled from the door. “I took a call. It’s from a Captain Palmer. He has a message for Corporal Marcus Brady. Is that you?”
Marc groaned, sticking his head out the window. “I’m all ears.”
The young man cleared his throat, flushed. “Okay. This is from him. ‘You tell that overrated snotnose that he has a three-week emergency leave and then I want him back in classes or I’m going to hunt him down and make him shave my ass. You got that, grunt?!’”
The younger ranger was scarlet and sweating as he waited for Marc’s reaction.
Marc snapped a sharp salute. “Sir, yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
JD and Marc were still laughing as he backed out of the driveway.
Marc glanced over at the wolf, who was staring at the rabbit in the driveway.
Sighing, Marc stopped the truck. He waved toward the carcass. “Go get it.”
The wolf was out the window a second later.
Waiting patiently, Marc lit a smoke, suddenly feeling better than he had in a full year. He’d needed the vacation, he thought, for peace and quiet, but it had turned out to be loyal companionship that he required.
The wolf lunged upward and cleared the window, landing on the seat. He dropped the rabbit on the floor to gaze at his alpha expectantly.
I wasn’t the only one, Marc thought, easing off the brake. Maybe this will work out for both of us. We’re clearly different.
Marc paid attention to the winding road as he left, but his mind immediately returned to Captain Palmer’s advice. When he’d taken the past out of the equation, the future had opened up in ways that he’d never considered. He loved being a grunt. That would stay the same, but from this moment on, he would no longer be the willing outcast who was only tolerated because he was lethal in battle. He would be a leader who taught other men to be deadly to America’s enemies. It was a position that he would execute with honor.
The End
Extras
What would you like to do now?
*All links below go to places in this book file.
Check out any deleted scenes
Read this book again
Learn more about this hero’s past
Discover what happens to this hero in the future
View all titles by Angela White
Deleted Scene(s)
Marc rose up to complete the act by hand, but Julia moaned, “Depo has us covered, baby.”
Happy enough to finish where it felt the best, Marc slid deep as he kissed her, letting go of his control. At the height, another face slammed into his mind. That never changed.
Breathing ragged, Marc kissed Julia’s cheek, noting purple splotches and puffy lids. Reality came crashing in and he dislodged himself.
Marc sat on the side of the bed to don his jeans. “You wanna talk now?”
Julia shook her head in satisfaction. “Over dinner.”
Marc didn’t argue. He was ready to eat. Sex had that effect on him. Grabbing his hastily kicked off boots, Marc dropped onto the bed to pull them on. “You good? I can knock you out again; let you sleep, if you want.”
Julia chuckled. “I’ve always liked that about you, Brady–how fair you are.”
Marc shrugged. “I like to give back as good as I get.”
Julia frowned slightly, and then drew on a happier thought to enjoy with the chills that she was still feeling. Marc had satisfied her before and during, then took his pleasure. He was the one man who’d ever bothered to do that for her. It made his trips to the ranch very welcome most days.
Reminded that he wasn’t here for her enjoyment this time, Julia sighed. “You can go on. I’ll be right there.”
Marc left the room humming, but not before pressing a grateful kiss to the top of her head. He wished all women could be like Julia. She never asked for more than he could give.
Learn more about this hero
Marc and Angie
Repeatedly torn apart, their forbidden friendship forged a bond that even twenty years and a nuclear war couldn’t break. I give you Marc and Angie, the backstory. But be warned! This is not a romance. This does NOT have a happy ending. This is the upbringing, the striking childhood, of two Life After War characters before they were reunited to find their missing son after the final world war. They are Marc and Angie. The year was 1989.
1
POV: Marc
I think you should know a few things about me before we get into the meetings and moments you came for. The first is that I’m lonely. Growing up, I spent almost every second that way. Existing in a home where there was only indifference and coldness caused me to long for someone who could brighten my life before I was even old enough to recognize friendship as a need. Isolated and forced to deny who I was, I lived a very different life from the other kids in ou
r small-town, Ohio neighborhood.
The second thing you should be aware of is how badly my mother crushed my faith with her rabid hatred of our heathen roots. Despite being the grandson of Roma immigrants, I was raised Christian. Everything changed after my dad abandoned us, from clothes and furnishings, to our regular attendance of every choir meeting, prayer chain, and baptism that we were invited to. Instead of the wild freedom to explore the world that I’d had for the first years of life, there were now crosses and plaques, and so many scripture lessons that I got lost in them. Some of it made sense, but most of it went against the beliefs that I had already been learning. My constant companion during the adjustment years was confusion. Why had my life flipped? Where had my mom gone? Even her name had changed. She’d once been Rosemary, but now, I had to call her Mary or mother Brady. Why had she been replaced with this hateful matriarch? Why had my dad left? Instead of love and family, I now had the new business of selling things to anticipate for my future. We had to be respectable, not heathen trash, and I struggled with it for a decade.
Left without a choice, I said the words and went through the motions, but I didn’t care about our roots the way my mother did. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in a higher power. I just didn’t know which one to pick–our natural heritage or the new lifestyle that didn’t fit me. I loved our forbidden culture, (the small bits I’d been able to keep learning behind her strict back) but I didn’t cross my mother openly. I knew who the boss was.
As I grew older, it was impossible not to think that I was being tested with temptation by both sides of my life–religion and love. If that was the case, then I failed more of the trials than I won, but some things are a fire in your blood and nothing can ever change that.
The last thing you need to know about me is that I was determined to escape. I had decided that I would have a different future than those around me. I would be a Marine, a hero who helped people and was respected for it. My determination to get out saw me through the early mornings that began on my knees, praying to a deity that I hadn’t even heard of until my dad left.
The rest of our clan seemed to love the new system, especially the men. They were sent away to learn the business, which allowed for months of unsupervised exploration of the world. It was mother’s way of convincing the males who were too old to be cowed like I was, and it succeeded. How to sell things and be respectable, that’s what the Brady’s became known for. Not for being gypsy spawn, as my mother referred to those who refused to hide our heritage.
