The Will to Love

by Lindsay McKenna

  “You seem far away,” he noted.

  “Sorry…I was thinking, Quinn. Did you answer my question?”

  “Not yet. I just felt you leave me.”

  A little stunned by his admission, she gave him a look of surprise. “Are you psychic or something? I did go away. I was thinking of the past.”

  Shrugging, he trudged down the middle of what had once been a street. “I’ve been accused of having a strong sixth sense. Pa said all good hunters have that gift,” he said, studying the trees that had once lined the area, now ripped out of the ground and lying around like scattered toothpicks. Downed power lines and poles looked like giant spiderwebs where they crisscrossed. There was no electricity in the lines—good news, because the dark cables snaked across collapsed roofs and dusty yellow lawns.

  Impressed, Kerry asked, “You have this skill with everyone? Your fire team?”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, Quinn held her interested gray gaze. “Not with everyone. Just…special people, I guess.”

  “Well,” she teased softly, “it’s nice to be one of those special people in your life.”

  Caught off guard by her tender admission, Quinn studied her candid expression, before his gaze roamed over her face, her hair. This morning, Kerry’s locks were washed and brushed. He’d made sure that toiletry items were on board that U.S. Navy helicopter, too. Now he saw that her sable hair actually had reddish highlights in it. Yesterday, for the first time, Kerry had washed her hair in a basin of precious water. Petula had gotten her hair scrubbed as well. It had done Quinn’s heart good to see them smiling and laughing as Kerry had gently towel-dried Petula’s long, black hair, the child seated in her lap. It was then that he knew Kerry would be a good mother.

  By the time they’d passed the first two blocks of the neighborhood, it was 0600 and the sky was brightening in the east. There was no wind this morning, and Kerry was grateful. She pulled a map of the region out of the large pocket of her oversize cammo jacket.

  Quinn kept looking around, on guard, the rifle clasped in his hands. Members of the Diablo gang weren’t going to be easily distinguished from the people of Area Five. They were dressed just like them. The only thing that made them stand out was that, upon occasion, they wore a white headband. If the leader, a man named Snake Williams, was smart, he’d have his survivalists fade into the local population so none could be singled out. Quinn wasn’t so sure Snake was that smart, but he wouldn’t bet the farm that he wasn’t.

  According to Kerry’s reports, Snake was the man’s nickname. Helluva nickname, Quinn thought. No one knew his real name. But in the second incident report, one of the victims remembered hearing another gang member use his last name: Williams. The victim, a woman whose teenage son had been taken hostage, a gun held to his head by Snake as he demanded all the food she’d managed to retrieve from her destroyed home, had given the leader everything. Her son had lived.

  Kerry folded the map into a small square as they continued down the next block. The street was in fist-size pieces of asphalt, and she had to be careful where she stepped, or she’d fall and hurt herself.

  “So where did you go before, when you had that faraway look in your eyes?” Quinn asked now.

  “Where did I go?” She looked at him and smiled slightly. “I was thinking of how I boldly kissed you the other day. It wasn’t like me, and I was wondering where that spontaneity came from.” Coming to a stop at the end of the block, she looked around, getting her bearings with the map in her hands. Quinn halted at her shoulder, less than a foot from her. She liked the feeling of protection he always gave her.

  “Are you sorry it happened?” he asked as he watched her run her index finger along the route they were taking. Holding his breath momentarily, he hoped that she wasn’t feeling regret. Why did he want that kiss to mean something beyond what it probably was? Kerry had been thrilled over the gift of the tent. It was possible she had just kissed him out of gratitude. Quinn was bothered by the fact he wanted it to mean more than that.

  Looking up at Quinn’s recently shaved face, Kerry savored his embracing blue gaze. “I don’t know any other way to be than honest, Quinn. So here goes….” She took a deep breath. “I surprised myself by going over and kissing you. No, I don’t regret it. But I’m scared, too. That wasn’t like me. I keep trying to figure out why I did it. Was it because of the stress of the quake? Shock?” Lifting her fingers, she tunneled them through her hair in a nervous motion. “I haven’t been attracted to any man since Lee died.”

  Though he nodded, Quinn felt his heart sinking.

  Quirking her lips, Kerry refolded the map and slid it back into the pocket of her jacket. “It’s you, Quinn. Whatever that means, it’s you. I wanted to kiss you. I like being with you. I like the way you think. Most of all, I like how you treat others. You’re a true leader. You listen to your men and their ideas. You don’t rule by control, you rule by soliciting their opinions, respecting their insights and experiences before you make a decision.”

  “And that’s important to you, Kerry?”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Yes…yes, it is.” Opening her hands, which now had warm gloves on them, thanks to Quinn, she said, “You’ve surprised me, Quinn. When Morgan Trayhern said there was a Marine Corps fire team coming in here, I had this idea that you were all John Wayne, gung-ho warriors who would look at us civilians like a plague that had to be cured.” Her smiled widened. “But you didn’t.”

  “We’re trained for suburban warfare,” he told her seriously. “Morgan said you had the goods. You were our contact. No one knows this area better than you because you’ve been clawing out a life here for two weeks before we arrived. What else could I do but listen to you? Learn from you?” She was achingly beautiful as the first rays of sun shot over the horizon and touched her slightly curled, short brown hair. Once again he could see the reddish highlights, and he had a maddening urge to run his hands through the silky strands. How badly he wanted to reach out and touch Kerry.

  Laughing shortly, she said, “I found that out.” Her lips pulled in at the corners as she studied his frowning countenance. “I’m finding myself really attracted to you, Quinn.” There, the truth was out on the table. She saw his brows raise in surprise, and then his blue eyes narrowed speculatively on her. A delightful river of warmth coursed through her heart and down into her lower body. Kerry recognized that look: it was desire. For her and her alone. Ordinarily, if a man gazed at her that way, she ignored him. But not now. Not with Quinn. Instead, Kerry absorbed his look like a starving animal.

  “I guess I’m just realizing how lonely I really was,” she admitted in a low tone. “After Lee died, well, I threw myself into my work at the sheriff’s office. I ran a teenage drug program for the county, too, so it kept me extra busy. I didn’t want to go home at night to our house. I didn’t want the silence warring with my memories. It was…just too much for me to bear…so I kept super busy to take the edge off my grief and loss.”

  “I can understand that,” Quinn said. He saw the grief in her eyes and grasped as never before what the loss of a loved one could do to a person.

  “Have you ever lost someone you loved, Quinn?” She earnestly searched his scowling face. There was such tenderness in this marine who stood inches from her. Kerry ached to throw her arms around him, kiss him and lose herself in his embrace.

  “No…not really. My parents are still alive. All us kids are alive. I had my grandpa die, and that was hard on me. They lived in the holler down from our cabin, and he was an important part of my life.” Looking up, Quinn saw a flight of birds wing overhead on their way toward the Pacific Ocean in the distance. They were seagulls, their white plumage shining in the rising sun. Gazing back at Kerry, he said, “But losing someone I loved and lived with? No.”

  “I don’t wish it on anyone,” Kerry whispered forcefully. “Even this quake, Quinn, is peanuts compared to the emotional mountains and valleys I’ve been moving through since I lost Lee.”

 
; Reaching out, he brushed her cheek. Kerry’s skin was smooth, like a warm, fuzzy peach beneath his fingertips. “Thanks for telling me where you went. It helps me to understand you.” And appreciate you. But Quinn didn’t say that.

  “I haven’t met many women who are as honest as you are, sweet pea.” The endearment rolled off his tongue. He saw Kerry’s eyes widen momentarily at his grazing touch, and then her cheek became stained with pink. He positively itched to touch her again, touch her longer, and in a way that showed her what lay in his rapidly beating heart.

  What was happening? Was it her? This disaster? Quinn wasn’t at all sure. What he was sure of was that Kerry touched his heart big time, and his desire for her was escalating. It was so unexpected that Quinn didn’t know what to do about it. In a way, he felt helpless around her. Not that Kerry flirted with him or egged him on. He’d see that warm look in her eyes from time to time when he caught her watching him in a quiet moment, but that was all. She hadn’t tried to kiss him again, rub up against him or find an excuse to touch him.

  Managing a crooked smile, Kerry whispered, “I like being called sweet pea. That must be a hill expression?”

  Chuckling and a little embarrassed, he said, “Yeah, it is. My grandpa called my grandmother by that name for as long as I could recall. I guess…” he paused, searching for the right words “…you remind me of her. She’s a gutsy old lady in her seventies now, and I’ve always admired her spunk and rebellious nature.”

  “I’m rebellious?” There was a teasing note in Kerry’s tone. How she ached to have Quinn touch her unexpectedly like that again.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know of any hill women who are in law enforcement. You broke the mold, as we’d say, Kerry. But I don’t see that as bad. Just different.” And wonderful. She was special to him, though he was afraid to ask himself why.

  “Just don’t call me by that name in front of anyone, okay? I’ve got a job to do and a reputation to uphold. Somehow, a sheriff’s deputy being called sweet pea could be counterproductive.”

  Joining her laughter, Quinn looked around. “Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t undermine your reputation or rank. Come on, let’s head east, toward the borderland region where Area Six butts up against us.”

  Nodding, Kerry fell into step at his side. By now, the whole neighborhood was awakening. Small campfires to cook on were in evidence on the lawns in front of the houses, the inhabitants huddled around them for warmth. Her heart, however, was pulsing with a need for more conversation with Quinn. Kerry sighed inwardly. Was it possible to fall in love with someone so quickly?

  Chapter Seven

  January 16: 1500

  It was near 1500 when they unexpectedly ran into the Diablo gang. Near the boundary with Area Six was a row of suburban homes only partially destroyed by the quake. Some were still intact. Quinn knew by now that a standing house meant many things to a quake victim: a way to get clothes, stored food or water, plus a roof overhead, providing there weren’t large cracks running through the structure. The lucky person who had a standing or even partially standing house was a drawing card for others. Quinn had found out from Kerry as they’d walked through the devastated neighborhoods that frequently many families would gather and use that home as a central focus point for their small community. And at night, providing the house was stable, as many as forty or fifty people would crowd into the rooms and hallways to sleep, to escape the raw January elements.

  The afternoon sun was strong and warm. Quinn had stuffed his and Kerry’s jackets in the pack he carried on his shoulders, but was still sweating freely. The flak vest beneath his cammo shirt chafed him so badly with each movement that he wanted to tear the thing off, but didn’t.

  They had just come to the last square block of a neighborhood that butted up against the Area Six boundary. Three homes were standing. Kerry held out her hand to stop him. Her brows moved downward.

  “Wait…” she cautioned.

  “What?” Quinn saw she was studying a crowd that stood in a semicircle in front of one of the homes. At least thirty people were riveted in place, looking at something he couldn’t see.

  “Trouble,” Kerry whispered in warning, unstraping her pistol from her holster. “I think it’s Diablo….”

  Though he didn’t know how she knew that, Quinn didn’t question her. Immediately he locked and loaded his M-16, after taking off the safety. But before he could intercede, gunfire erupted near them. Six geysers of dirt sprayed up at their feet, the bullets narrowly missing them.

  There was no time to think, only to react. Quinn saw Kerry dive for the ground, aiming her pistol to the left of the crowd.

  As he lunged for the ground in turn, because there was nowhere to hide, he saw a tall, swarthy-looking man coming at them, a submachine gun in his hand. The winking red-and-yellow flashes from his gun barrel told Quinn that he was firing directly at them. Quinn grunted and rolled to the left. The man was in back of the crowd. Quinn couldn’t return fire for fear of wounding a civilian. Damn!

  Kerry? Where was she? Jerking his head to the right, Quinn spotted a car that had been upended. Leaping to his feet, he caught sight of her in his peripheral vision. She was running out in the open, pistol held in her right hand, her entire focus on the Diablo member coming at them, rifle blazing.

  Bullets whined and whistled around Quinn. He had to find protection or he was going to be hit! Digging in the toes of his black leather boots, he sprinted toward the car, which was a hundred feet away.

  “Get down! Get down!”

  Kerry’s voice carried loudly across the area.

  Somewhere in Quinn’s mind, he knew she was screaming at the civilians to duck so that she or Quinn could take a clean shot at their attacker. He had no time to look. Bullets whined past his head. Dirt leaped up near his right foot as he dived the last ten feet to the car.

  With one final leap, Quinn landed heavily in the dirt and rolled. He was safe! Once behind the car, he scrambled upward. Where was the shooter? Where? His heart was pounding. Sweat was stinging in his eyes. Searching frantically, he heard the screams and shouts of the people. He saw them falling to the earth, hugging it and screaming out in fear.

  It was then that his blood turned cold. He saw three more of the Diablo members, all wearing white headbands, at the center of the group of people. They were heavily armed.

  Looking to his right once more, he spotted Kerry. His heart shrieked out in protest. She was out in the open, with no place to hide! His mouth dropped open as she sank down on one knee, steadied her pistol in both hands and fired directly at the three members.

  Cursing, Quinn focused on the first Diablo and squeezed off three shots. The man went down, his submachine gun flying out of his hands. It landed harmlessly five feet away on the chewed-up street.

  Kerry! Heart pounding with fear because she was a fully exposed target, Quinn steadied the rifle against the top of the car. To his horror, two of the thugs were firing at her. He saw one jerk and fly backward. Kerry had gotten him. One more to go!

  Breathing hard, Quinn sighted on the big guy with red hair who was focused so intently on Kerry. There wasn’t more than three hundred feet between the two of them. Squeezing off a shot, Quinn aimed for the man’s bare head. He couldn’t be careless. If he was, he might kill one of the civilians flattened on the lawn near where the man stood.

  Kerry! In that split second before he brushed the trigger of his rifle, Quinn knew she was in trouble. She was an easy target.

  Kerry kept her wits about her, despite the shrieks and screams of people surrounding her. This was the only angle to shoot the thug. The gunfire was deafening. She knew she was a target. She didn’t want to die, but they were firing at her with a hailstorm of bullets.

  There was no time to worry about Quinn. She’d seen him dive for safety behind the overturned auto. Good! As she steadied herself on one knee and held her pistol firm, she fired off shot after shot. They had to be head shots, because if she aimed lower one of her bu
llets might strike a civilian. And that would be unforgivable.

  A bullet slammed into her right thigh. At first, Kerry felt only a vague, stinging heat there. She was too focused, her adrenaline pumping too strongly, to feel anything more. She saw two Diablo members go down. Satisfaction thrummed through her. Good! More people shrieked as the man fell on top of them, unconscious. One more to go.

  It was then, as Kerry squeezed off the ninth shot from her pistol, that a bullet struck her in the head. She didn’t even see that her last bullet missed her attacker as she fell back.

  No! Oh, God, no! Quinn saw Kerry crumple. He saw the pistol fall nervelessly from her fingers. She sagged backward, like a rag doll, limp and lifeless. With his last shot, he took out the last member of Diablo. The man crumpled to the ground, his weapon falling from his hands.

  Leaping from behind the auto, Quinn sprinted toward where Kerry lay. She was on her back, her body twisted, her arms thrown outward. Sobbing for breath, his chest hurting, Quinn cried out her name as he dropped to his knees beside her.

  Around him, people were starting to get up and move. Children were crying. Women were sobbing. All his focus, his heart—his life—centered on Kerry. Dropping his weapon, Quinn went into EMT mode. The A, B, Cs—airway, breathing and circulation—roared through his fragmented mind. He saw blood staining her dark green slacks on her right thigh. Worse, he saw blood on the right temple of her head. She was pale, seemingly lifeless.

  Thrusting his hand out, he put his shaking fingers on her pulse. Yes! She was alive! Thank God. Thank God. He leaned down, trying to still his chaotic breathing in order to hear, and placed his ear near her nostrils. Was that a faint puff of air? She was still breathing! She was alive! But would she live?

  Gripping the computerized radio he carried, Quinn punched in the code to connect him with the medevac helicopter base. It was a special frequency that would tie in directly to Camp Reed, to a Blackhawk helicopter on loan from the U.S. Army, that sat waiting for just such a call from military personnel in the field. Glancing down at Kerry’s soft, pale face, her slack lips, the thick dark lashes against her cheeks, Quinn felt his whole world tilt out of control.