by Angela White
“Ten minutes and then I’ll come and get you, and I won’t care who sees.”
Angela was distracted by the sight of Charlie stumbling into the men’s shower without clothes or a towel.
He looks sick or something, she thought and the witch muttered, “Or something.”
That made her frown.
Neil, still trying to make amends, rushed to make her happy. “I’d like to make a recommendation.”
“And I second that, Boss.”
Angela turned, attention torn, and Adrian raised a brow, still playing his part. “After only one day?”
“Yes.” Neil wasn’t as sure as Kyle, but he trusted Adrian. What he’d told Marc on his second day here, about doubting Kenn, but never their leader, flashed in his mind and Neil added more than he’d planned to. “In time, she’ll lead here.”
Sharp attention went over Angela from hair to boot, pinning her in place. “This rookie?”
Neil let Kyle handle it from there. Adrian and the mobster put in more hours together than anyone else.
“We recommend the personal time you gave us.”
“That’s a lot to ask.”
“She’ll earn it, boss.”
Angela was aware of them trying to give her what she wanted, but the sight of her boy still had half her focus, and she didn’t realize she was supposed to do anything until she felt the three men staring at her expectantly. She flushed again, trying to replay their words, and saw Kyle’s gaze go to the jacket still in her grip.
Angela slid the rookie coat on with a feeling of power and pride that made her stand straighter. Her worries over her son were instantly banished as Adrian spoke.
“This is a symbol of your commitment. You will wear it to lessons and on missions.”
Angela’s fingers paused on the zipper, voice laced with embarrassment, “But nowhere else, right?” Her cheeks went darker as they all chuckled.
“Wear it whenever you want. It’s yours and only I can take it away.”
“Only I can take it away,” Kenn mocked sarcastically, moving out of the area and away from the empty training tent. It wouldn’t be that way long and he couldn’t be anywhere near it and remain in control. Whenever a rookie jacket was given out, a workout always followed. They would all be in the tent with Angela, alone, for hours.
Kenn walked faster. He was off duty at noon. From there, the day was his and he would spend it waiting for a moment alone with her. She might have been accepted as an Eagle by Adrian and his two suck-ups, but not by all the men in the levels, and Kenn had things planned to show them how unfit she was.
He would give her one last chance to stop and then he would make her life miserable. He knew how to work the men over without breaking Adrian’s rules, his skills at causing unexpected pain had sharpened. If she wanted to be one of the guys, he would treat her that way.
3
Charlie moved back inside Marc’s tent with three minutes to spare, not sure if the man was bluffing. The teenager wanted to search the mental doors, but the pounding in his skull said that wasn’t an option. He would have to deal with this closed-off stranger on his own.
Marc had been dozing, warm under the leather coat instead of the rookie jacket he’d pitched into the corner shortly after getting it from Neil. So far, he hadn’t worn it at all and didn’t think he would. Rookie and Brady hadn’t even visited each other in decades.
“What did you tell everyone?”
“You ate too many different things last night and need a day for it to clear out. You’re here because you didn’t want to keep Matt or your mom up and you knew I’d be on duty until dawn.”
“You just got off duty?”
Marc’s tired yawn was an answer and he saw the guilt he’d been hoping for get quickly hidden by teenage rebellion.
“Not my fault. You brought me here.”
“You’re done drinking. For years.” Marc's tone was like steel. Before the boy could protest, Marc held up a pack of aspirin and a bottle of water. “Take these and eat the crackers in your pocket.”
Charlie patted himself in surprise. These weren’t the jeans and hoodie he’d been wearing last night! He took the water and packet with a glare. “You’re not my boss.”
“Okay. Then you should be able to get out of this on your own, right?”
Adjusting his Colts, Marc moved toward the flap, and instinctively ducked the bottle meant to hit him in the back.
Slap!
The bottle hit the floor and Marc stepped over it. “I’ll be done with my next shift around noon. You will be here waiting for me. If not, I’ll go to Adrian first and then to your mom.”
“I hate you!”
Marc stiffened, blinking away bright pain, and forced himself to shrug. “We have to start somewhere.”
Adrian saw Marc come from his tent with a wounded expression and gave the man a nod of recognition for the battle that had begun. Adrian had no problem letting Charlie’s father try to handle it. Maybe they would find some common ground along the way. Much like he would have to with his own abandoned–
Adrian stopped the thought. He hadn’t abandoned Conner. He was very late.
Adrian’s gaze went over the parking area, where Samantha and a small crew were preparing a double semi for the new garden. She was another one who needed to take advantage of the circumstances. Neil’s team was trying to match-make and Adrian wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Becky was currently skipping her new nursing duty with the doctor to perch in the front seat of Tonya’s muddy convertible, out of sight. Neil wasn’t in the area yet, but the teenager knew he would be. She’s waiting for him to show, Adrian thought, though, her youth would likely send her searching for him if he took too long. Becky had become very adept at tracking Neil.
It was all likely to become an ugly mess, especially since Neil’s right-hand also seemed to have a thing for the storm tracker. And Jeremy already had a fling running with Cynthia. Adrian proceeded to the coffee line. It was life and he was grateful for each of them.
He moved under the steel canopy of the mess with a welcoming smile and people responded right away. Moods picked up, heavy worries eased a bit, and he was glad to be able to do it. That was a part of his gifts that required no real work anymore. Happiness had its own attractions. Like with the college kids and the nuns. They were all at a double table, surrounded by Peggy, Hilda, and the other females. Talking and eating as if they’d been friends for years, it was another sign he was leading them all in the right direction, picking up those who were worthy.
That was another problem he was trying to solve. Who was worthy? It came as no surprise that he resented having to make those hard choices as much as he liked it. He planned to have Angela meet with all the new arrivals soon, but that too, was dangerous to rely on. She couldn’t always tell when there was a problem. Like with Rick. Adrian had asked her and been left frowning at her explanation of dark spots. They still didn’t know if the man was a threat.
The slavers had been following Angie and Marc or Safe Haven’s radio calls, maybe both, but they’d shaken their tail for a moment and gone quiet. Safe Haven hadn’t put out a radio call in days. If there was a transmission, an attempt at contact, they would catch it and that, along with the extra sentries, was the best he could do. If not for the mental map pick-ups, even the radio silence might have been impossible because of his need to gather survivors. The thought of passing them by was intolerable and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would keep things quiet. That made the Eagle lessons even more important.
Speaking of lessons, he thought, exiting the mess. A group of females was reading the tryout notice that Kyle had put up. Adrian veered away before they noticed him and rushed over with a million questions. The try-outs were set for dawn, but he had few hopes of those women showing up. Unlike Peggy and Hilda’s troupe of helpful females, these six were a clique and stuck to themselves. They weren’t ready, but that would change. Angela would be the first, and second...Samantha.
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Adrian turned to discover Jeremy leaning in to the blonde as he spoke. Samantha laughed in response, leaning toward him as well, and Adrian noted the slyness on Becky’s face as she saw the flirting. That fiery teenager might fall into his army right after Samantha.
4
“Can I go now? Somebody will get suspicious.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Yours, too, if my mom finds out you’ve kept me here all morning.” The frustrated boy hesitated, pushed harder. “Or Kenn.”
Marc’s lids popped opened. “You want that piece of shit instead of me? I’ll get him for you.”
Bluff called, Charlie fell back on the bedroll. “What do you want?”
“You’re smart. Figure it out.” Marc shut his eyes again. He’d been back from his short shift and dozing for the better part of an hour now, skipping lunch mess while he waited for this angry child to understand that the path he was walking led nowhere.
“I’m gonna get fed up and blow this open, I hope you know that.”
“And I hope you get it before you start the shouting and bring your mom in here. Why don’t you try again?”
“Uhh! I’ve been trying! You won’t tell me enough.”
“Deep down, you know. Push aside all that anger and concentrate!”
Marc’s sharp command had Charlie reluctantly doing as he said, but the mental door loomed like a wall, and the frustration rose up again.
“Stop fighting it,” Marc coaxed. “You don’t want to feel our emotions and it’s holding you back.”
“It’s private.”
“It’s your story, too, son. Now, open the door. We both have better things to be doing.”
That wasn’t true in Marc’s case. Other than Angie, there was no one he’d rather spend time with than this smaller, angrier version of her.
“Fine!”
Charlie had reached his limit and instead of pushing, he yanked on the mental door and fell into a large room in his father’s mind.
A young Angela was what he saw.
She’s adorable, was Charlie’s first thought. Sitting in a chair in the far corner of a crowded room, she seems sad, was his second.
The little girl was dressed smartly for the holiday, almost a Christmas angel, but no one talked to her or offered her anything from the long table everyone else was picking through. Was she being punished?
The number of guests steadily increased and each time the door opened to admit these new family members, the little girl’s lids would fly open and give him an awful glimpse of desperate hope. She’s waiting for someone, Charlie realized, unable to fit that pretty and clearly vulnerable kid, with his adult mother.
The door opened again, letting in another large group and this time, instead of quickly-hidden disappointment, there was a flash of indescribable joy in the little girl’s gaze. Only lasting for an instant, it was missed by everyone who had rotated toward the new arrivals, but two of the coat-bound incomers had seen that telling expression. The first was his dad and Charlie had no trouble recognizing this pre-teen boy as the man whose memory he was sharing. They were nearly identical still.
Young Marc grinned, calling out and responding to greetings, and he skipped over the little girl without even a glance.
The group was herded to the full rack to hang their coats up and the snow-covered boy managed to place himself behind it, hanging up his parent’s jackets.
Out of sight, young Marc finally glanced her way and Charlie’s jaw dropped at the open fire there. He wanted her! At that age!
Angered, Charlie started to retreat.
“Wait.”
Reluctant, Charlie continued to study the image, the girl. She seemed to have fallen into a doze, but Charlie saw her flush in response to young Marc’s fast glance. Her lashes were lowered and she adjusted her hands, stretching out her fingers. Only…had that been a code?
After being around the Eagles so much, Charlie recognized the motions as too orderly and wasn’t surprised to see young Marc nod before coming from behind the rack.
“What did she say?” Charlie asked, drawn despite himself.
“That she’d be outside,” Marc answered, trying not to let the pain of the past affect him right now.
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“You won’t.”
The little girl was slipping out now and no one asked her where she was going or told her to button-up her coat. In fact, they were acting as if she didn’t even exist.
“Why do they hate her?” As soon as Charlie asked, he knew.
“You tell me,” Marc instructed, sensing they were finally on the edge of the lesson.
Charlie saw one of the newest arrivals flinch back to let the child go out first. “They know what she can do. They fear her.”
“Feared,” Marc corrected. “It was a long time ago, but there’s more to this than that. She was an example to them, of who not to cross.”
The door shut behind the little girl, cutting off the glimpse of her startling profile of misery and hope, and Charlie knew young Marc’s would be the replica. He didn’t want to see that and he glanced over the other people instead.
My family? Charlie’s gaze stopped at the matching features of a tall, intimidating woman standing near the coat rack Marc had been behind. She was imposing, impeccable in her black and white robes…and she was staring at the door too, only her countenance was filled with fury.
“Mother Brady,” Marc introduced bitterly.
She was the other person who had noticed the little girl’s joy when they came in and she didn’t like it. Not even a little.
“Your grandmother.” Marc’s tone dripped with loathing and pain. “She’s the reason you were without a father.”
The woman snapped her head around, as if in response to older Marc’s voice, and Charlie couldn’t tell if she had been fast enough to see the caring on her young son’s face.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Charlie thought. Feelings that strong couldn’t be hidden.
Or fought, he added slowly. The image faded into darkness, but Charlie didn’t ease out yet.
“I’d like to know something else.”
“Depends on what it is.”
“How you found out…about me.”
Charlie winced at the instant bright rays of happiness coming from the man now in the Ohio hall in front of him. From the garbage and cracked glass, there was no doubt it had been after the war. When Warren’s death came, the world darkened, and Charlie withdrew. He leaned against his hands, thinking about what he’d witnessed.
“You’ve had a different life than the one your mother and I would have chosen. Some people let that sort of thing eat them up, but considering your parents, I know you’re not that weak.”
Marc lit a smoke and opened the bottom of the flap to clear the smoke, but missed the shadow that had frozen outside as he studied his son.
“Would you like to see more?”
“Not you and…mom stuff.”
“I promise.”
“Okay… Show me where you guys lived.”
Kenn had been going to his tent, but Marc’s words had drawn his ear and now he couldn’t move.
“…your mother and I…”
Brady was the boy’s real father. They had known each other before the war, as he’d suspected!
A wave of rage descended over Kenn’s numb limbs and his hands clenched into tight fists. In the rear of his head, two voices were arguing.
One was defensive, wearing Adrian’s jacket. The other was the evil Marine who’d once punched Angela and broken her nose. That was the old Kenn. He’d been raised to control and manipulate, and it was the feel of that familiar hatred that snapped him from his trance and spun his feet toward the training tent.
While he walked, Kenn’s hands went over the 9mm on his hip and the guard on the area headed for Adrian.
5
Angela had never been so sore, so fast.
“Uhh.”
She dropped down into the lounge chair with a pain-filled grunt, knowing when her muscles eased she would get some relief. The workout celebration after getting her rookie jacket, then the impromptu fighting lesson Kyle had suggested, had taken a toll on her.
The large steam tent was empty except for a dozen chairs and towels laid out and she sunk further down into the foldout seat as cold water dripped and thick clouds of damp fog floated from the center ring of hot rocks.
Angela tried to relax as the sweat dripped from her salty skin. She had done the entire workout this time, the one Kyle and Seth did five days a week. Compared to Marc, who did his own course every day instead of working out with the men, the Eagles were in better shape, as hard as that was to believe. They were cut, strong, and she was anticipating that, too. She wanted everything that came with being in Adrian's army.
“Oohh.” She shifted, wincing as she searched for a spot that didn't put pressure on her shoulders. The one-legged pushups were the hardest on her weak arms. The Eagles had warned her she was doing too much and she'd assumed there would be soreness, but this... This was hell. Her thighs, shoulders, arms, and sides were foreign invaders intent on making her cry and every movement was torture. It had taken only an hour to achieve. How long would it last?
“I don't know. You sure? He didn't send us.”
“Yes.”
Voices outside the steam tent made Angela’s heart thump and her fingers slid to the gun at her side. Covered by her towel, it was a comfort she went nowhere without. When the two Eagles ducked inside, wearing only shorts, her eyes narrowed in a warning that they couldn't miss, finger tightening on the trigger.
Slightly breathless from the sight of her cut-offs and half top, both men recognized the clear desire to be left alone, and took chairs that were next to each other, but not her.
“Uugg.”
Seth's grunt had Angela hiding a smirk. He had claimed he was past that level, too hard to be made sore.
The men settled into the chairs, steam flowing from the rocks in neat, soothing waves, and Angela shut her lids. If it had been anyone else, she probably would have left, but these two took shifts guarding her. She had nothing to fear from them. It was time she believed that.
