LAW Box Set: Books 1-3 (Life After War Book 0)

by Angela White

  She stood up, began cleaning their lunch mess. Only time would tell.

  “Come on, Sir Lancelot. I’d like to make another three by dark.”

  Marc snapped a stiff salute and Angela glanced away before he could see the disappointment. Had a tiny part of her lonely heart been hoping that one of his conditions might be another chance with her if she decided not to stay with Kenny?

  She shut and locked her car door, swallowing the bitter pain. That was exactly what the old Angela had been waiting for, and it was a struggle not to cry as she shifted into gear.

  8

  They traveled until it began to get dark. The rain had finally cleared, leaving only the damp, reeking wind as they rolled over dead wires still attached to downed poles and around hundreds of trees that had their tops sheared off. It was sad and monotonous, and despite her need to hurry, Angela was glad when Marc finally called her on the radio. She was beat.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes. You pick, I’ll cook.”

  “Deal. That long driveway on your right.”

  Carefully easing up the muddy driveway that was full of cracks and weeds, Angela quickly saw the benefits of his choice. Thick trees blocked them from view on one side as far as the eye could see and a cornfield did the same on the rest of the property that surrounded the small farmhouse.

  A few of the big windows were broken, but the home looked otherwise undamaged, and Marc drove toward the small carport, hoping there was room for two. He had honestly expected Angie to be driving something flashy and unusable. Her obvious seriousness about making this trip was something of a relief, as well as a worry. It spoke of someone who wasn’t exaggerating.

  Marc stopped, watching her slowly ease her vehicle into the hard dirt row of corn, snapping a surprising few of the knee-high stalks. Obviously, she’d done it a few times.

  Closing his mouth on the correction he had started to give, Marc waited to determine what she had in mind.

  Angela pulled out a rolled-up camouflage tarp, and when she tossed it over her Blazer, pulling gently on the stiff ends, the muddy vehicle disappeared. Marc felt the Marine inside stir in respect at her resourcefulness. Fresh recruits tried hard for eight weeks to impress him, usually without success, and she had done it in less than a day.

  “There should be room for both of us.” She had crawled under the tarp and the radio made him jump.

  “Copy.”

  Angela stood on her roof, holding the tarp up so that he could pull in.

  Marc concentrated on what he was doing, instead of her. He put the car in park and killed the engine, watched her step casually across his hood and jump down. She tugged the tarp until he had to flip on his inside light to see by.

  Wearing gloves and a heavier coat, Angela was driving thick steel pegs into the corners of the large tarp when he emerged, and Marc went to secure the house, Dog at his side. His movements were careful, thorough, but his mind stayed with the woman he could hear working. She was an asset in this new world; he had realized that already. She was strong, smart, and a possible target for every man who spotted her. That was what had stopped him from leaving. Marc was sure the fire in the woods had been set.

  He’d found something on the corner of his tailgate that could be the trim from a bullet. The brothers had tried to fry her in her sleep, and when she’d woken too soon, they had started shooting. The smoke had ruined their aim and saved Angela’s life. Amid the cracking tree branches and roar of the flames, Marc hadn’t even known they were under attack. She wouldn’t stand a chance without him, and he had loved her too much to let her go on this suicide mission unprotected.

  Loved? his heart questioned scornfully.

  Marc pushed it away. They would stay on the side roads and be careful with shooting lessons that would draw attention.

  One glimpse of her and we’ll be under attack again, he thought.

  An hour later, they were settled in their bedrolls on the floor, eating and trying not to stare at each other.

  “You don’t wear any insignia. What branch of the Marines were you in?”

  Marc was dwelling on her story of finding fresh meat in the basement of a lavish home that she’d passed in Edinburgh. Drawn by the lights in the windows, she had found the generator still running. There had obviously been people there recently, but she said she hadn’t run into anyone while exploring the big house. What courage that must have taken!

  “Brady?”

  “The one with no name.”

  His words made her frown. Hadn’t Kenny said about the same thing a few years ago, when she asked about the last advancement? She sighed, peering at the bedroll between her and the blanket-covered doorway as the wind howled outside. Kenny was going be so pissed that she couldn’t even predict what he might do. Was Marc equal to that?

  “Like The Unit?”

  Marc peered up at her. “You watched that BS?”

  “Every Tuesday, no matter what.”

  Her bitter tone made his smile fade, and Marc waited for more, but there was only silence. He could feel her wanting to ask if he was that good and admired her control when she didn’t.

  “Yes,” he finally said, answering her unspoken question.

  “You’re sure?” she asked gravely.

  He nodded, not quite thinking about the harshest things he’d done, but she could feel the darkness, the dirty stain on his soul, and was comforted.

  “Him too. He’s got four years in now.”

  Marc’s face was shuttered. “Most men don’t do it that long. It’s dangerous work.”

  She heard it, felt there was more, and let herself ask, “How long for you?”

  “Eight. I had my own team.”

  Angela knew he was heartbroken over the personal losses, could hear it in his tone, but she couldn’t bring herself to mouth the usual pleasantries that the old world would have required. He was mourning a great life. She’d barely had one to lose. She’d clung to her sons and now, one was rotting underground and the other was lost in the wilderness.

  Belly content for the first time in a while, Marc flipped through the pictures she had set by his plate. He was glad she hadn’t pushed him on why he’d stayed in so long. That question required trust, and they didn’t have any yet.

  “Why didn’t you call me, Angie? I would have come and taken responsibility.”

  She pushed away her half-finished burger and corn. “I wanted more back then. I wanted all of you or nothing.”

  She lit a smoke. “Besides, they wouldn’t have left us alone, and you know it. Between their religious crap and your shame, we didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Didn’t I deserve to help make that choice?” he asked quietly.

  Angela took the cigarette from her mouth with shaky hands she knew he saw. There was probably little that he didn’t notice. “Yes. We both deserved to be happy, but it was taken away. I found out about the baby, and I was alone. I made hard choices that were wrong sometimes, but we’ve always been together and no one has ever told him that he’s going to hell because of our sins against God.”

  Marc winced, fading in time to the confrontation with his mother.

  “She’s your family! How could you?” his mother shouted.

  “Not by blood!”

  Slap! “By God!”

  “That was a long time ago.” Angela’s voice held a tremor.

  “A lot of hurt between then and now,” he agreed.

  “We made our choices. What’s done is done.” She yawned tiredly and stood up, still surprised to discover that his obvious pain and regret didn’t please her. She really did owe him much worse for the way he’d abandoned her. She headed for the doorway, pulling on her jacket.

  When he followed, Angie said nothing but felt immediately better that he was taking her request for protection seriously.

  “So, where all have you been since the war?” she asked.

  She went to her Blazer, and he hung back, thinking her waist was still so small that he could
span it with both hands. He shoved them into his pockets instead, remembering a time when he’d been free to do that and a lot more.

  “I was in Virginia when the bombs fell, going home for a funeral.”

  “Whose?”

  “My mother’s.”

  Angela started to offer her sympathy, and he held up a hand. “Don’t bother. I went home to bury the past, not her. She’s been dead to me for a long time.”

  He lit a Winston, casual tone not changing. “After Roanoke, I traveled northeast for a couple weeks, but it was all worse. There were already mutations in West Virginia, and after that, I changed directions. I’ve been to about twenty other bases, offices, and centers. There’s nothing.”

  Hearing it only made Angela a bit sadder than she’d already been. That world was gone, and eventually they (she) would stop expecting its return.

  Angela got another duffle bag from the rear seat and disappeared behind a tree, liking it that he waved the wolf after her. This was why she needed him. He would teach her to be strong, and protect her while she learned.

  And what happens when he runs out of things to teach? the witch asked ominously.

  Angela wasn’t in any state to search that far ahead, and didn’t answer.

  They were quickly back inside the tepid warmth of the faded, drafty farmhouse, both of them avoiding looking at the happy faces of the family who had lived here, smiling from the walls around them.

  “How much gas do you have?” Marc pushed the heater closer to the window so the draft would carry it farther into the room.

  “Only quarter of a tank, but I have two ten-gallon cans in the rear.”

  “Great. I’ve got about the same. We should be okay for a few days.”

  Marc spent a minute at the window, scanning the landscape around their vehicles. He had chosen this room because it was the closest one to their wheels that had a window for a quick escape. Marc wondered if he should point that out to her. How much did she want to learn while they traveled?

  “Have you seen anyone rebuilding? Any place for people to go?” Angela asked, suddenly wondering if his home had included a wife. The pain was almost staggering.

  “No, and I’ve been looking. It’s always the same. Things are bad and getting worse.”

  She didn’t say anything. After ten days out in this horrible new world, she had seen too much to believe that this was the normal recovery time after a global tragedy. Clearly, the government was gone and its people were on their own.

  “So, he’s a HAC-RAM?”

  Angela smiled at the thought of her son, and the beauty of it made Marc stare. Enough of those could blind a man from even seeing other women.

  “He has been for three years. Have a child, raise a Marine, was one of Kenny’s better ideas. They were in New Mexico at an annual competition when the war came. They never miss it, and usually bring home a box of trophies. From the outside, he’s the perfect dad.”

  Angela settled herself on the couch, rubbing at her face, and Marc forced his mouth shut. He was going slowly so that he didn’t miss any clues and was already seeing things that bothered him. The jumpiness and hand flinching toward her gun at every sound could be attributed to her being attacked by the brothers, but there was also the way she hesitated to walk close or look him in the eye. No physical contact was a given, but her cold reaction to his hug had been unexpected, uncalled for. What had–

  “Where’d you get the wolf?”

  “Dog?” Marc smiled awkwardly, not sure how much of his thoughts she was picking up. “He was part of a pack before we met up. Rangers caught him after a kid was taken.”

  “They were gonna put him down?”

  “Yeah. My buddy had a farm with room and once there, Dog settled in and we made friends.”

  “He obeys well for still being mostly wild. It’s good that you didn’t take that from him.”

  Marc lit a smoke, thinking most people didn’t realize that fact when they heard the story. “I only changed him where I had to. He went on base with me, on missions a few times. It saved my ass more than once to have him along.”

  “It sounds like you’ve lived the ideal bachelor’s life.” Angela hated herself for being too weak to resist and was aware he knew the answer mattered.

  Marc didn’t hesitate. “There was never anyone for me after you. You’re a tough act to follow.”

  The old Angela did enjoy the hurt in his voice this time, and she slapped out at him with sharp claws not quite fully extended. “Hell, Brady. Thought you would have a supermodel by now. I never figured you for a swinging-single.”

  Marc smiled uncertainly, shrugging, but his heart screamed ambush at her almost accusing tone. “I wasn’t that either. Too many strange ones out there. I had one fast date with a girl who had a nose ring and three-inch black fingernails. Strange.”

  Angela opened her mouth before she could censor the words and was appalled by the jealousy that spewed out. “Did she have long black curls and pale white skin like all the others? Did you see my face when you exploded inside her?”

  Marc sucked in a breath, hurting face covered in the truth.

  Angela stood up, sorry and afraid. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that.”

  “After everything you’ve been through, I guess you owe me a few.” Marc stood too, reeling from the blow that she already knew he wasn’t over her. He frowned when he caught her flinch.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  The note of real fear was unmistakable, and he slowed his actions, put his back to her so that she couldn’t witness the rage on his face. She was afraid of him, terrified.

  “Better to let it out, honey. The sooner we clear the air, the sooner you’ll trust me again.”

  “But I do,” she protested.

  Marc moved toward the door, but his sharp gaze was on her and he recognized the relief on her face when he kept going.

  “I called you, didn’t I?” she argued tiredly as his hand went to the knob.

  “Yes, but you’re not sure if you can trust me. It’s a problem we’ll have to work on.”

  “It’s not a problem. I’m fine,” Angela insisted, worrying that he was about to leave.

  “Then why do you go for your gun every time I move?”

  He watched her slide trembling hands into her pockets. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Marc waved at the wolf, voice hard, “Stay. Guard her.”

  The animal immediately lay down in the doorway, and Marc shut the door, leaving Angela relieved, confused, and sorry she hadn’t controlled her reactions better.

  Marc traveled the perimeter, furious. Angie was scared, and not that childish shit women did over mice and spiders. It was real fear of being hurt, and he hated the people who had taught her that. He was hoping her life hadn’t been as bad as observing her implied, but every minute they spent together said it had been worse. The fear she was carrying was not from being attacked by the twins. It wasn’t new. She was terrified of men, and that only came from being hurt by one.

  What if she has been abused? his heart demanded. What if it’s as she says? What if he comes for her and finds out she’s not alone?

  “Then I’ll fight for her.”

  The words were instinctive and Marc now thought he’d probably end up doing that anyway. It was ingrained.

  If she chooses not to be with her Marine anymore, his conscience threw in the condition, but Marc lashed out in bitter anger.

  “To hell with her man! She was mine first!”

  9

  Swallowed by her coat and hat, Angela emerged as he came up the steps, and sweet vanilla filled his nose as they passed. Marc shoved his hands into his pockets again to keep from reaching out for her. They’d been apart for so long and he’d missed her so much!

  Angela heard him as if he had spoken, and she forced herself to stop as the stiff wind blew her curls around wildly. He was doing her a great service, and she didn’t want him to be upset.
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br />   “It wasn’t meant to be, Marc, but we’ll be friends again, in time. That’s something, right?”

  He wanted to tell her she was wrong. They had been soul mates. “You’ll be safe with me,” came out unexpectedly instead. Marc was glad that he had reassured her when she flashed the first honest smile he’d seen.

  “I know it deep down, but...” Angela shrugged, not wanting to expect more than he was willing to give.

  Marc understood. “But it helps you to hear it, and you’ll probably need me to do it again.”

  She flushed, brows drawing together. He had recognized her needs so quickly. Why couldn’t Kenny have been half the man Marc was? She moved to the Blazer, aware of him like she’d known she would be. Some things never changed.

  When she stepped out of the Blazer, she wasn’t surprised to see the wolf sitting on the porch.

  “Hi, Dog. I’m Angie.”

  The big animal immediately held up a paw, and Marc grinned as Angela’s laughter rang out. He watched her bend down to shake without hesitation. Most people were too scared. He observed from the impenetrable darkness of the doorway, heart thumping when she pulled her shirt to the side to adjust a lacy, white bra strap. The desire changed as his gaze went to the jagged knife scar on her shoulder, instantly knowing that’s what it was. It was rough, ugly, and out of place on her pale skin.

  A hard knot of rage formed in Marc’s gut as his mind played a video of her being held down, struggling and screaming, while someone carved what looked to be a grotesque letter K into her flesh. Wasn’t her man named Kenny?

  Stop it! Marc told himself sternly. There were many possibilities, like a car wreck, shrapnel, falling on something, bobbing when she should have weaved, and still, he knew what he knew. Marc moved silently back to their den, busy counting the ways he would make her man pay if he was the one responsible.

  Five minutes later, Angela still hadn’t come in, and Marc went back out, though Dog was with her. Marc didn’t like it that there was no noise.

  Angie was in the farthest, darkest corner of the porch, and if not for the sounds of her pen scratching on the paper, Marc thought he would have missed her. How could she write in total darkness?