The McClane Apocalypse Book Ten

by Kate Morris

  She knows she shouldn’t, but Sam can’t resist running her hand and fingers through his deep, thick red hair. So she does. Then, like her, he seems to lose the ability to breathe, as well. His fingers dig into the back of her thigh, and she jumps when she feels his other hand go straight to her other knee. Then it, too, slides around to the back of her thigh and squeezes tight.

  “Sam,” he whispers. “Samantha.”

  She can’t answer. Words, as well as breathing, have escaped her abilities. His thumbs begin stroking back and forth against her thighs. Then he squeezes more tightly and yanks her more forward.

  “Simon,” she cries softly. Her hand slides down to the side of his neck. His earlobe is too difficult to resist touching, so she rubs the back of her thumb under it. This must be something he considers pleasant because Simon groans quietly.

  In a sudden flash, Simon has tugged her right into his arms, and his mouth has found hers. He doesn’t kiss her like anyone else ever has. Not at all. He kisses her as if he is possessing her soul. His tongue plunges into her mouth, and although she wants to shove him away, push him, kick him when he’s down, hurt him as he has hurt her so badly, Sam doesn’t. Instead, her traitorous body disobeys her mind’s commands, and she readily returns his kiss. When she touches her tongue against his for a fleeting second before retreating, he pulls her completely off the chair and down into his lap where she is straddling him. Sam is vaguely aware that he is kneeling on both knees now. He’s fully supporting them both because her knees can’t touch the ground since his thighs are too thick for her to reach the floor.

  His right hand moves from the back of her thigh to cup her bottom and pull her against his middle more tightly. Sam sucks in a deep breath. Not from holding it for so long but for what she feels pressing against her. His fingers clench into a tight grip before loosening up again and pulling her close. The friction of rubbing so intimately against him causes Sam to cry out softly against his mouth. Then she moves her hands, which were immobile and curled into fists against his chest, to his shoulders. They don’t rest there long before sliding up into his hair again. Simon’s hair is so soft. She hasn’t touched him for so long, and she feels like a drug addict indulging after a long dry spell. He must also feel the same way because he moans against her mouth.

  It just doesn’t seem like enough. Sam wants more. She wants him, even though every fiber of her being says to get away from him solely for the purpose of self-preservation. Her brain screams to stop this insanity, but her body pulls him tighter. Her hips press into his. It’s enough to make him nearly growl, and Simon shifts both hands to her bottom. He tugs hard at her, putting her in even more direct contact with the firmness between them.

  Simon slides one hand up her back. His other slips between them to her stomach. Then he travels higher until his hand is resting between her breasts. He pushes her back until their lips pry apart. Sam is left feeling disappointed until his fingers go farther north and he slides them up her neck until he has tipped her chin back. What he does next makes her cry out, this time rather loudly for the stillness of the small, empty cabin. He lavishes her neck with kisses and licks and sensual nips. Then he places his hand behind her neck and pulls her back up to him. He rests his forehead against hers. Both of them are breathing hard. This should cool them off. It should, but it doesn’t.

  Instead of moving back from her, Simon teases her by leaning forward to kiss her. Sam closes her eyes and leans up for another kiss. He doesn’t kiss her, though. Sam’s eyes pop open. He grins lasciviously, teasing and toying with her, and runs his hand from the back of her neck up through her hair and tugs her mouth to his. And again, the fire is ignited, even brighter if it is possible.

  Somehow- she has no idea how he does it- but somehow Simon stands, taking her with him. He makes sure she keeps her legs around his middle. He carries her without his mouth leaving hers. Carefully, Simon lays her back on the bed. Then he comes down over her in a predatory manner. His eyes are open. Hers feel heavy as if she is drugged and in some sort of euphoric state.

  Simon’s mouth meets hers with a slower, more patient but no less intense passion. His leg wedges between hers, and he rests against her where she can feel him even more directly than she could when she was sitting on him. Sam is growing impatient. She tugs his torso down onto hers, too. She can feel him smiling against her mouth as he continues to kiss her. Instead of being insulted, Sam tugs at his thermal tee until it comes loose of his waistband. Then she slides her hands under to his bare stomach, causing the muscles to flex under her fingertips. He sucks in a breath. This time she grins against his lips. She likes feeling this power over him.

  He moves from her mouth back to her neck and then pulls her own shirt up and settles lower between her legs. His lips press feather like kisses against her bare stomach. Sam shoves both hands into his hair. One of his hands slips south and cups her through her thin leggings. It makes her cry out. Then he easily pushes both hands under her to cup her bottom and lift her off the bed.

  Simon freezes and buries his head against her hip bone while still holding her up. “We need to stop.”

  “Wha…what?” she whispers breathlessly.

  He shakes his head against her and quickly and comes back to her mouth. “Before I can’t.”

  “You can?”

  He chuckles slightly and grins crookedly. There is something rotten and carnal in that grin, his eyes wild. “Barely.”

  Sam frowns as she begins to float back to the ground. He pushes his hips into hers again, and she’s right back in the clouds. She closes her eyes and arches up to meet him. Simon kisses her neck again. This time it ends too soon.

  “We have to stop,” he repeats stupidly.

  Why is he being so dumb all of a sudden? He’s always been such a smart person.

  “I don’t want this,” he reveals.

  Sam instantly stiffens. Her eyes fill with tears. “You…you don’t want me? Why did…”

  “What?” he asks, his head jerking up from pressing another kiss to her chin. “No, that’s not what I meant. Sorry. My brain’s not working very well right now.”

  She offers a weak grin as he wipes at the corners of her eyes, obviously seeing the tears that were threatening to fall.

  “I’ve never wanted anything more, Sam,” he explains. “Just…just not like this.”

  She furrows her brow at him with confusion.

  “Not here. Not right now. Not like this. I don’t want sex with you outside of marriage. You deserve more.”

  Sam barely hears him. He’s still pressing against her, against the center of her, and it’s making her crazy. No sex. She heard that part. Then her brain registers the word ‘marriage’.

  “Wait, what?” she whispers and presses herself deeper into the bed.

  “I don’t want our first time to be a sin. It’s a sin to have sex outside of marriage.”

  “Simon, nobody thinks like that anymore.”

  He nods, and his eyebrows do a quick jump as if he realizes the truth of this. “I know, but that’s not what I want for us. And I do think like that.”

  “What? I don’t want to get married.”

  He grins as if he finds her funny.

  “I don’t,” she states more clearly.

  “You will,” he says.

  This angers her a little, and Sam feels the headiness of their intimacy leaving her. “No, I won’t. You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  “I know, and that’s always been a big problem for me,” he says. Then he chuckles once, “You, my dear, I’d never presume to understand what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

  She offers a glare, feeling insulted.

  Simon isn’t put off. He kisses the tip of her nose and says, “You will.”

  “I will what?”

  “Want to marry me.”

  He shoves up from her and is standing on the floor beside the bed in an instant before she even has time to gather her thoughts.

  “
I need to call Derek back,” he states and turns toward the table.

  “Why?” Suddenly without him, she feels a draft of cold air.

  “He called twice in the last…well, twenty or so minutes,” he says with a smile in his voice.

  “He did? I didn’t hear…” she starts but stops because she realizes why she didn’t pick up on the radio call. It makes her feel a tad stupid, too. Apparently, Simon wasn’t as moved by their kissing. He heard the radio. She hadn’t. The more she thinks about it as she rises and goes to the bathroom and slams the door, the more Sam gets angry. He still holds all this power over her, especially over her emotions. Sam splashes water on her face and pulls her hair into a ponytail. She takes much longer than she needs for taking care of her business because she needs to cool down, calm down, get a damn grip on her emotions.

  “He wants us to wait till after dark now,” he says as soon as she emerges.

  “Why?” Sam asks, surprised that he is so much calmer than her. She clears her voice and takes a few deep breaths before approaching the cookstove where he is heating food in a pan.

  “Cory and John ran into some trouble last night,” he explains. “They don’t want us to have the same problems. I told them about last night. They were concerned. I assured them we’ll be careful tonight. Besides, we need to wait out this rain anyway.”

  “Right,” she agrees distractedly. She turns to walk away from him when she feels Simon’s hand on her upper arm.

  “Sam, I’m sorry I almost lost control,” he apologizes.

  He steps closer, slips his hand around her waist, and pulls her against him. Sam finds a tiny bit of resistance still left in her store of free will and pushes away.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “It won’t happen again.”

  He looks surprised at first. Then he just grins and goes back to his work at the stove. She knows she can resist him. She just needs to avoid Simon. Only one more day with him until she can go home to her uncle.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Paige

  They get to town late and have first to conduct a clinic day. Doc actually came with them, and Sam’s uncle is already there seeing patients when they arrive. Before they can question Sofia, they must treat their patients. And Reagan has to cover the clinic with Scott because Doc has to check in on the few children who are still sick from Scarlet Fever. That all means that she will be helping out at the clinic, which always gives her anxiety. As long as nobody’s bleeding, she should be good. Or vomiting. Or having any other bodily fluids not being well-contained in their bodies where they belong, then she’ll be just fine. Also, Reagan gave her a heavy-duty mask to wear, which should help.

  Mostly they treat people who have minor sicknesses like ear infections, a few that Reagan says are likely infected with strep throat, and flu bugs, and a man who fell off his roof and has a possible concussion. They don’t finish until almost four, and she helps sanitize the clinic within an inch of its life along with another nurse and a few of the volunteers from town.

  “Go on, Miss Paige,” their nurse, Tilly, says to her. “We’ll finish and lock up.”

  “Thanks,” she says and leaves the exam room.

  In the lobby, she finds Reagan talking to Scott, so she joins them.

  “I think so,” he’s saying. “I’ve already packed everything over there. They don’t need three doctors and four nurses.”

  He must be talking about Dave’s camp.

  “I agree,” Reagan says. “We could use the help here. Grandpa isn’t going to admit, ever, but he needs to retire. If he wants to come to town once a month or so, that would be fine, but this is too much. With treating those sick kids, he was gone all the time from the farm, and it took its toll.”

  “What about your father’s place?” Scott asks. “Seems to me like he’d like Herb to come up there.”

  “Not happening,” Reagan states firmly. “There’s no way he’s going up there. Sure as hell not permanently.”

  “I would have to agree with that,” he says. “I’m just glad we’re moving into town.”

  “Have you even told Sam this yet?”

  He shakes his head. “Not exactly, but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. I know how much she misses you all. I’m telling her as soon as she gets back.”

  Paige tries not to frown. Naturally, her uncle doesn’t know about her situation with Simon. She certainly doesn’t want to be around him. She’s made that very clear.

  Instead of pointing that out, Paige says, “Yeah, we miss her, too. It’ll be great having her closer.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too,” he says with a sad smile.

  Her uncle doesn’t seem to be a very happy man. She’s not sure what all he’s been through, but she can sympathize. She went through the same struggles to survive out there. Sam is always playing matchmaker, hoping her uncle is going to find love, but he doesn’t seem to Paige as if he’s even looking for it. He’s hard to get to know. He has erected an emotional wall around himself and doesn’t let people in. However, Paige is happy for Sam. Having one of her family members in her life is a good thing. She knows firsthand what it’s like to live without every person you love, thinking they are all dead, and living without hope.

  “Well, we’d better get down there and do this thing,” Reagan announces next, referring to their prisoner, Sofia.

  “Yeah,” Paige says. Reagan asked her to help question the woman, and she’d agreed to it. She doesn’t know if she can add anything that would help, but if it means ending this debacle sooner, then she’s willing to offer whatever assistance she can.

  “I’ll check in with you later,” Scott tells Reagan. “We can cover our notes before you leave town. I’m staying here tonight anyway.”

  “You should come to the farm,” Reagan suggests. “There’s plenty of room. You could see Sam and stay in Derek and Sue’s house.”

  “Yes, maybe,” he says and walks out of the room and back toward the exam rooms again.

  Reagan watches him go but doesn’t comment. “Ready?”

  Paige nods, and they go out onto the porch where Cory is sitting waiting for them. Reagan sends him a nod, and the three of them walk to the sheriff’s office.

  “I don’t think she’s going to talk,” Cory says and waves to someone who rides by on a horse. He knows virtually everyone, and the townspeople like him very much from what Paige has seen. She also tries not to get jealous when an attractive blonde also waves to him. He sends her the same, friendly but not encouraging wave he sent to the man on the horse. “She’s not been sayin’ much to the sheriff, or so he’s told me.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Reagan clarifies. “She’ll talk by whatever means we have to use on her to get her to give up Parker. We have to end this.”

  “I know, Little Doc,” her husband says and takes Paige’s hand. His is so warm, while even in a glove hers is frozen.

  They walk up the stairs and enter the building, the former town hall, and find the sheriff waiting for them. He’s with a few of his deputies and leads them to the cell in the basement where they used to keep that boy from the highwaymen’s group, the one Sam coerced into talking. Paige wonders why they don’t have her doing this. She’s obviously better at it. But, nonetheless, she follows Reagan to the room where they’ll question her. The mirror on the wall will allow the others to observe.

  When she’s brought in, Paige is surprised. The woman is young, probably in her early twenties, and very pretty, although tired looking and unkempt. Her hair is, indeed, blonde and long. Her big, hazel eyes regard them warily as she is ordered by the sheriff to sit opposite them at the table.

  “What am I doing here?” she immediately asks.

  Cory steps away and leans one shoulder against the cement block wall off to their side.

  Reagan answers her first, “You’re Sofia. I don’t know your last name, but I know you go by Angelica.”

  Her eyes dart around nervously. Robert told them that they
didn’t tell the woman why she was being arrested and transported. The sheriff hasn’t questioned her much other than trying to get the basics like her name, where she’s from, and other harmless information. She has simply been sitting in a cell, being fed, and ignoring them when they try to talk to her.

  Reagan continues, “Is that correct?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers and lifts her chin a touch with defiance.

  Reagan sighs as if she’s already irritated. “We know you go by Angelica.”

  “Wrong,” she says.

  “We need information from you,” Reagan explains and rubs the back of her neck as if it is sore. She is still nursing Charlotte and is probably not getting a lot of sleep.

  “I don’t have any information to give you about…anything.”

  “You do and you will,” Reagan states. “It doesn’t matter to me how we get it, but we will extract the information we need, or Cory over there,” she says, pointing toward him, “will get it for us.”

  She sends a glance toward Paige’s husband and physically cringes but tries hard not to show her fear. He is an imposing human being. Paige wouldn’t like being on the wrong end of his wrath. Reagan’s questioning goes on for quite a while, at least a half hour by Paige’s watch, but she isn’t getting anywhere with the woman. Reagan is also losing patience, and Paige doesn’t blame her. Finally, her friend stands and stretches her back.

  Paige jumps in to try and help, “Why don’t you just start by telling us about yourself? That’s a better idea. We don’t have to rush. Let’s just talk, ok?”

  She twists her mouth and bites the inside of her cheek.

  “My name is Paige, and that man over there is my husband,” she says. “I know your name is Sofia. That’s a pretty name. But you also go by Angelica. Did it mean something to you?”

  She looks away. Paige has struck on something. The town absorbed some of the women from the sex slave camp, and Derek had the sheriff take them down to look at Sofia in her cell to see if they knew her, but none did. It was a good idea, but it just didn’t pan out.