On the Road: Book Two

by Angela White

  Frowning, Marc stayed in the tree, watching. Their first week together had gone smoothly. Even crossing the ugly, swollen Mississippi River had been easy, by using an out of the way dam. He tried to do things for her, but she was stubborn, always insisting on the hardest path. The tone of her voice seemed to beg for another mile each time he asked if she was ready to stop for the night, and he always gave in. As a result, she was exhausted, and he was tired, so much that they weren’t unpacking anything but their bedrolls and the heater most nights. Marc sighed again. She needed a break. Soon, they both would.

  2

  Angela awoke abruptly, instantly aware that other than the wolf, she was alone in the chilly room. She concentrated, worried Brady had tired of babysitting her and left, but she found him just outside and tried to relax. Between the fear of Kenny’s reaction hanging over her head like a noose, and her dreams of the twins, she was freaking out a little. She knew Marc was picking up on it and was grateful for the things he did to make her feel better, but there would be hell to pay once Kenny…

  "Something’s coming."

  The door appeared in her mind, pulling at her, and she immediately closed her eyes and turned the knob, heart thumping. The twins?

  An icy wind blew her hair back as she stopped in the doorway, knowing not to go further, and she shivered as she looked into another world.

  This landscape was blanketed by a thick blizzard and dotted with the shadowy forms of people, but only one of them - a dirty blonde with a nasty limp - actually looked alive as she plowed determinedly through the knee-high drifts. She moved toward where Angela stood on the threshold, the edges of her dirty brown trench coat dragging over the deep snow, leaving a clear trail.

  This world was pure white except for the people; even the trees were bent, covered in ice. Angela thought she saw a pack of dogs in the far distance, but wasn’t sure. The other people paid no attention to the open door, but the blonde limped straight toward her, frozen eyelashes glistening like jewels. “It’s coming. Get ready.”

  There was a radar map in the woman’s eyes, like a reflection of an old weather broadcast. Angela’s heart raced as she realized that she and Marc weren’t the only ones caught in the path of the massive winter storm moving in from the South. Her son was in danger, along with all the people they’d joined at Safe Haven refugee camp.

  A strong wind pushed her back as the door slammed shut between them, echoing, and Angela jerked upright, eyes flying open. She would wait until the snow was falling before she sent the warning - Kenny would never believe her otherwise - but it was coming and they would all have to get ready.

  Fear raced through Angela’s veins and her heart sped up. She had to call Kenny. He was about to find out the first big rule she’d broken. He would know for sure that she was on her way.

  3

  Angela stepped out onto the porch, wolf disappearing into the trees, and found Marc instantly - though she couldn’t see him from the doorway.

  Marc grinned when she moved into view, looking up at him. “You see me or sense me?”

  She frowned, not really comfortable talking to him about the things she could do. “I’m not sure.”

  He dropped down. “You all right?”

  She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “Not really, but I’ll be better when we’re on the move again.”

  She lit a smoke, prepared herself to take a chance. Would he believe her?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a bad storm coming. A winter storm,” she said quietly, waiting for the questions.

  “Snow?”

  She still didn’t look at him. “A lot of it, and I think it’s going to get colder. I’ve got a roll of plastic.”

  Marc smiled, showing sexy white teeth. “I’ve got a staple gun and duct tape.” His unquestioning acceptance brought her eyes up and they stared at each other. Both of them could feel that old connection wanting to grow again. He looked away before she could.

  “What smells so good?”

  “Omelets. It’s all rehydrated or powdered though, so don’t expect much.” Powdered eggs suck, Marc thought, and Angela went back to cooking with a smile of agreement, not searching for his thoughts, but not blocking them either.

  “Can I do anything?” He followed her slowly, mindful about keeping his distance.

  “Yes. Teach me some defensive moves today after lunch.”

  “Sure. We’ll start with the basics and move up.”

  “I really need something I can use now.”

  He frowned at her insistent response. “I know quick ways, but they’re for Marines. Not pretty,” he warned.

  She shrugged, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear as she turned off the stove. “Pretty doesn’t matter. Only results do.”

  “Remember you said that.”

  Angela frowned at the second warning, but didn’t ask for details or change her mind as she handed him a plate and sat down on the far end of the couch. “I will. Let’s eat.”

  Angela wrote in her journal the whole time, and then bundled up and slipped out the door without a word, leaving Marc to worry as he waved the wolf to follow. Where was the carefree young girl who had insisted they build a clubhouse in the middle of a snow storm? Where was the innocent enchantress he had eased into womanhood and how could he get her back? There had to be a way.

  When he stepped out, Marc was surprised by how much gear she already had on the porch. Obviously, she was serious about the storm, and he kept his eyes from lingering on the rounded ass sticking from the rear of her Blazer each time she retrieved something else. He carried her things inside instead.

  Coming back for the last load, he noticed the temperature with a frown. It had dropped nearly five degrees in less than two hours. That definitely wasn’t normal and it confirmed her warning. Again, not that he’d really doubted. Her gift had always been a part of their lives, one of the reasons his mother had been so against him spending time with her, but it didn’t bother him anymore now, than it had then. It was useful, and he had little to hide. Marc had often wondered what it would be like to see and feel everything the way she did, but he didn’t envy her abilities because he knew the terrible price she paid for them.

  “Need some help?”

  Angela hadn’t known he was so close behind her, and Marc saw the hand flinching downward before she stopped herself. “I’ve got it.”

  Her tone was sharp, and he backed off, stepping through thick Bermuda grass as he went to get his own things. She was trying to keep the wall between them, and he would respect her wishes….for now.

  It only took them half an hour to improve the cabin’s temperature, using large sheets of plastic to enclose the area around the couch. They worked together in silence, Angela anticipating his needs as she had when they were kids. Once finished, they dug out warmer clothes and Marc tossed a plastic-wrapped pouch on her bedroll. “Thermal blanket. Used to a part of my sniper gear.”

  Trying not to frown at the word sniper, she tossed a similar looking package on the couch. “He left some of his things behind this year.” Their similarity, from supplies to transportation, made them both sad. What a great team they would have made. It also had Marc a bit more uneasy about the future. Her man had sniper training, too. Great.

  4

  Angela tried to calm herself down. She knew Marc wouldn’t hurt her, but still flinched as the door opened and Marc came back in from doing a walk of the perimeter.

  “Ready for your first lesson?”

  She nodded nervously, rubbing sweaty palms down her jeans. “In here?”

  He motioned at the small area, very aware of how uncomfortable she was. “Warmer in here, more room out there. You pick.”

  “Outside,” she chose, hoping the cold might distract her from her fear of being touched, of being hurt. She was already shaking.

  Stopping at the foot of the steps, she drew in a deep, calming breath as he took off his gun belts and set them on the porch. It was lined
in scraggily patches of weeds trying to grow - with little success.

  Marc watched the fear in her eyes grow as he moved toward her. “We can start out slow.”

  "I can do this.”

  Marc circled her. “I believe that too. Just remember to think.”

  She nodded, and he rushed her.

  Marc swung a leg behind her knee and gently took them to the ground. Not letting his weight fall on her, he tried not to think of her as a woman, but as a cadet to be trained, instructed.

  Fear bursting through her mind like a rocket, and Angela struggled thoughtlessly.

  Marc clenched his teeth in an effort to stay soft. She felt good! “Rubbin’ that body against a man won’t make him stop, Honey.”

  Angela froze, cheeks bright red. “I don’t want...”

  “You can’t talk your way out, either. You have to think and then act. Start with locking your ankles together and try to throw me off.”

  She did as he said - heart pounding, mind screaming - and Marc met her eyes.

  “You have to get in control of it. Being scared makes you human, but you have to think too. Your hands should be trying to find a weapon while your legs keep trying to throw him off. Your gun, his knife, a rock; anything in reach, and don’t waste your time yelling. It will only tire you out.”

  Angela sucked in air, closing her eyes against the fear in her heart.

  “He’ll be saying things, pawing at you, but surprise is your weapon. Distract him and then bite, punch, kick, whatever it takes, but don’t let him turn you over.”

  She nodded, wanting him off of her, and Marc raised a brow. “Make me.”

  She surprised him with an almost gentle butt to the head, and then they were struggling against each other, Marc using only pressure, no force. The fear in her eyes was intense, preventing his body from responding.

  After a full minute, he let her roll him over and off. She was on her feet in an instant, hair wild, eyes flashing as he stood up.

  “Lesson two. When a man corners a woman, he watches to see if she’s a runner or a fighter. Your eyes and body language tell him how to prepare for you, and again, surprise is your weapon. Keep your hands at your sides. Make him think you’ve frozen, and when he moves in, cup your hands into a fist and bring them up at the same time as your knee. Pound his nuts into his stomach, and run for a weapon or your car. If you miss, you’ll be on the ground again. Ready?”

  She was glad he had given her the warning this time, but couldn’t help freezing when he rushed her. They were on the ground a second later.

  “Lock those ankles, Angie. Use your knees! You can’t hurt me, but I could hurt you, if I were a bad man. You need to pretend I am.”

  She answered him with a harder butt to the chin that sent tiny stars of vivid shades across his vision. He let her roll him over again.

  Angela quickly gained her feet for a second time, and Marc took a quick look around as he got up. Clear. “Very good. Ready?”

  He was moving in before she nodded. Angela remembered to drop her hands, but was afraid to really hit him, terrified deep in her heart that he would hit her back, as Kenny had so many times.

  Marc tripped her easily, taking them down again. This time, her arms were pinned by his chest and the heavy weight of his body. “Don’t roll over and don’t unlock those ankles!”

  Angela twisted her hips to make room and flung a handful of dust half-heartedly in his direction. Her knee brushed his groin, and again he let her roll him off.

  She got up a bit slower this time, almost winded as she tried to remember his words over the fear screaming in her mind.

  Marc realized he was going to have to use a different method to circumvent her fear of men. She had to see him as a stranger. He backed up a little, ignoring the heart that didn’t want her to be afraid of him for any reason or length of time. She froze when he got close, afraid of what would happen afterwards if she hurt him, which she couldn’t. He needed to reach that place inside that came out when survival was on the line, so she would remember how to handle herself when it counted.

  “Not going to the ground means the difference between rape and escape. You have to stop me by any means necessary.”

  Angela frowned, backing up as he edged closer. “I can’t just attack you.”

  “I’m gonna make it so you can. Remember to think.” Marc sent his very male eyes over her body with clear want, letting the animal side out just a bit, and Angela felt terror go through her at his words. He wasn’t like them, right?

  “Pretty white bitch,” he growled, mimicking the brothers' menacing tone almost perfectly. He hated her reaction, but didn’t stop, forcing her to deal with it. “How 'bout a kiss? Been alone a long time.”

  She shook her head, still moving carefully away, and he was glad to see her eyes locked on his. At least she knew that much.

  He rushed her suddenly and Angela brought her hands and knee up together. The force behind it was meant to hurt, but it didn’t. Neither said a word, Marc only letting his body strain against hers.

  It took him a full minute to get her off her feet this time, Marc not really trying, of course, and once on the ground, he kept her there, showing her where to hit, scratch, kick, and punch.

  A few minutes later, Angela knew she was done, and stilled, closing her eyes so he wouldn’t see how afraid she was that he wouldn’t stop.

  “Done now… Let... me up.” To her great relief, his weight was gone an instant later.

  There was no way she could have stopped him, and she knew he felt her shaking when she allowed him to pull her to her feet. She let go quickly and put some distance between them, stomach muscles now aching, pinching.

  “You okay?”

  Her words were breathy. “Good... exercise even... if I don’t... learn anything.”

  “You will.”

  Their eyes met, sparked, and hers darted away, making him frown. He had provoked real fear in order to teach, but it had taken so little!

  “I’ll work on it, Brady. Again...tomorrow?”

  He grinned at her, surprised she wanted to. “Absolutely. You did great. Next time, I’ll teach you ways to keep anyone from getting close enough to grab you.”

  She nodded, sweating despite the chill in the lightly gusting wind. She didn’t notice the wolf curling up on the porch, but Marc did, and was glad. He was never completely sure the animal would return.

  “Cool... guns now?”

  His eyes were unreadable as he considered. He had shown her proper cleaning and hand positions, and they’d done some dry fire exercises, but she needed to practice, and that made a lot of noise, would draw attention they weren’t ready to handle. “Not until we leave here. For today, we’ll use something quieter.”

  Pulse and respiration racing, she only nodded again as they headed in, unwilling to ask him for more. She needed to get used to caring for herself. Wasn’t that why she’d called him, to teach her?

  “You mean that?”

  Angela was surprised he was picking things up from her, the look on his face said he hadn’t been expecting it either, and the moment hung between them like a flame in the darkness. Back in the old days, they had been open to each other in every way.

  “Yes. Will you?”

  He looked away from her, thinking her eyes were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pretty cars and expensive jewels had nothing on Angie’s baby-blues.

  “Absolutely. In fact...” He dug in his kit. “I found this back in Mattoon.” He handed her a small, purple gift bag from his pack. It held an orange dart gun with half a dozen darts and a paper target. She saw the benefits even as she laughed at the toy.

  “I’ll treasure it always,” Angela joked as he taped the target to the wall. She loaded the bright orange weapon and stepped back to practice, concentrating.

  Marc stayed in a back corner, occasionally offering direction and trying not to sniff his hands. They reeked of her scent. He kept a groan to himself. Damn, he had it bad.


  When Angela looked around a bit later, the wolf was at the door, gray ears up, reddish-black head down, golden eyes watching contentedly. Marc had settled on the couch to clean his guns, and she felt peace and bitterness warring in her heart. This is how it should have been for them…and it had been stolen.

  5

  After a quiet meal of beans and Bambi, they settled in to wait out the storm. It wasn’t quite dark yet and they were surprised upon moving outside. Not to step out into cold, white darkness, but by the amount of snow that had already fallen. It was still coming down in thick sheets, at least six inches of the dirty grey flakes covering everything. The wind swirled the falling moisture into tiny tornadoes that raced across the cornfield to slam apart against the broken stalks and their snowy, tarp-covered vehicles.

  The pair split up wordlessly, Marc waving the wolf after her as she stepped behind a large, ice-covered tree and out of his sight. The wind howled, growing stronger, and sheets of falling snow whipped violently, producing a whiteout effect that the flashlights around their necks barely penetrated. Making a fast round of the perimeter, the Marine uncovered alarms, then joined her on the porch, careful to keep his distance.

  Angela didn’t meet his observant eyes, didn’t want him to see how scared she was. “I have to warn Kenny this is coming," she thought, but only said, "I’ll be out here for a few minutes.”

  Marc heard both statements. He wanted to stay and listen, but gently, closed the door instead, jealousy burning in his heart. He could feel it a moment later, powerful waves of warning that seemed to vibrate in his head as they rushed over miles and miles of broken American ground. He was hit with the urge to interrupt, to make his presence as her new protector known, but that would give away the element of surprise, and the Marine inside held him in check. Longing to at least hear what was being said, Marc began to clean his guns…again.

  Angela slammed the door in her mind, trying to stop crying and shaking. Kenny was so mad!