by Angela White
Rick gave in without a fight; shame no longer something he felt. “You’ll have what you want, like in Trinidad and Boulder. This plan always works.”
“And what reward do you ask, white man, for betraying your people? Again.”
Rick didn’t deny or even flinch, didn’t feel anything at the jab. They were not his people anymore. They hadn’t been since the war. “The woman, until I’m tired of her.”
“There are no white unions here!”
“Not a union. My slave.”
Scowling, Cesar slammed his deformed hand on top of his dirty sombrero to keep a gust of wind from stealing it. “If there were to be a child, it would be killed.”
Rick snorted. “I want her, not some screaming shit machine. If she comes up pregnant, I’ll make it go away.”
Cesar didn’t doubt that tone. “Deal. Do not forget. Two weeks, and then you will deliver this Safe Haven to me.”
5
“You follow. Make sure your witch is with them,” Cesar ordered, watching Rick go to the woman. “We’ll be along.”
The twins hovered in the shadows, eager to do as instructed. The tracks from the school might have led them to the witch, but the twins had lost the prints in a sewer drain and hadn’t been able to find them again despite checking exits for hours.
The weeks that had gone by had made the twins doubt themselves. If the woman wasn’t what they had assumed, then they would just keep going. Cesar had put a lot of time and effort into this now. He’d made strong plans based around the control of such a power, and being denied would cost someone’s life.
It was a big risk the brothers were taking. They’d likely be caught and killed in the future if they had to run, but the need for revenge on the woman and her protector was undeniable. And if she was what they had thought, then they would gain something any man would risk his life for: true magic.
Now feeling on top of what could be a future problem, Cesar watched them go. First, the twins went ahead to hide and follow, and then Rick left with the woman, sneaking through the tent shadows. Cesar had no doubts the traitor would contact him on time. The men here had no rules, no chores, just sex and drinking, with killing thrown in for fun.
It is the real American dream, Cesar thought, gold tooth gleaming as he grinned cruelly. Mine, and I’ll kill any group that tries to change things back.
America was in for a long storm season.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fire and Desire
March 30th
Near Chadron, Nebraska
1
“We are an American Red Cross Convoy picking up survivors. We offer food, shelter, medical care, and protection. Does anyone copy?”
“We hear you, Safe Haven! We’re in Hot Springs. We’re out of food. Are you around here?”
“Close enough. How many people?”
The man’s voice that answered the woman’s plea for help was different from the one they’d been hearing regularly for the last week. Marc and Angela both stopped cleaning up their late lunch to listen to the conversation.
It was late afternoon, and they needed to get moving again, but the waves of authority from that voice were impossible to ignore. To Marc’s ears, he sounded military.
“Twelve. Two are sick. We don’t know what it is.”
“That’s a lie,” Angela stated, able to read it in the woman’s shaky voice.
“We offer help to everyone, sick or not. Do you know Morse or phonetic code?”
“I know both, but go slow, it’s been a while.”
“You an ex-sailor by any chance, Hot Water?”
“Nancy, and yes, for seven years. How’d you know that?”
“Because of the slight dislike in your words. Marines and Navy didn’t usually mix well.”
The Safe Haven man’s tone was laced with a comforting humor.
“No, sir, they didn’t.”
“They do now. We’re all soldiers in the same fight for survival. Take down this message.”
“He tells his men that too,” Angela muttered, listening in many ways.
The taps came slowly enough for Angela, who’d been learning the code from Marc, to understand. “They’re in the Black Hills. That’s only one day from us.”
Over the hood, Marc stared, full of longing.
I want more time.
Me too.
Can’t we?
…no.
Two days would be All Fools’ Day. Was it an omen?
Marc frowned. “You all right?”
Angela stared at the vast field of corn that ran as far as they could see on both sides. They were only five miles from the Nebraska-South Dakota state line. There were barbed fences and brown grass struggling to survive along the side of the road, but no trees. Other than a faded red barn with a tall silo on one side, there was only corn here.
“Angie?”
Marc hated the fear in her expression. It hadn’t been there much in the last weeks. She had worked hard to overcome her weaknesses, and he was still amazed by how fast she’d done it.
“You could call now. Talk to your boy.”
“No. I don’t want Kenn to know where we are.” Angela pushed the fear back as her mother’s heart spewed awful words at the refusal. “And we need to talk about what happens when we get there.”
Marc straightened up. “After we make camp tonight?”
“Let’s stay here. Meet up with them in the next few days,” she chose, gaze wandering large circles of charred dirt that reminded her of the empty holes they’d seen in middle Nebraska.
Marc’s unease grew. They had covered three hundred miles in nine days, driving continuously. Last night, he’d had to insist they rest and get ready to face whatever was coming. They had only made one long stop to replace his Blazer (again they were identical; the only one they had found was the exact match to hers. Fate…? Marc wasn’t sure.), and she had been pushing them hard to get here. Now, she was hanging back. Nerves?
“Are you sure? We could be there by dusk tomorrow.”
“No. It’s already been ninety-eight days. A few more won’t matter.”
Marc took a step toward her. “You can’t put it off, honey. Just face it, and we’ll go from there.”
Angela watched Dog patrol the edges of the shoulder-high corn, knowing she had to let Marc in on what she was feeling, thinking. “I’m not avoiding, but I am nervous. I’m cutting ropes, erasing his hold on me, and he’ll hate it, hate me for it. You need to have the details you asked for in Indiana and I need to strengthen my determination. Will you drill me on the things you’ve taught me, remind me that I can fight back?”
Marc’s heart broke for her. “I think that’s a great idea. You’ve gotten a lot stronger. He won’t know how to handle you.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
2
“Faster. You can handle it.”
Angela pushed the pedal down, and the Blazer leapt forward, throwing them back.
“On my mark. Just like before.”
Angela concentrated, hands and feet connected to the thrum of the engine, the vibrations of the tires.
“Now.”
She spun the wheel, jerking up the emergency brake, and then they were spinning in the dusty street, seat belts holding them in place.
“Now.”
Gunning the engine, Angela straightened the wheel, and the Blazer shot forward.
“Again. Seventy this time.”
Angela mashed the gas, emboldened by her repeated successes, and managed to make the emergency rotation without his instructions.
She grinned, waved at the line of dirty, faded targets they had come to a stop facing. “Next?”
Marc then made another mistake that would later haunt him.
“Loser has dishes!”
Angela got out of the car and took off at his challenge, darting for the distant line of dented soda cans they’d set up.
Distracted by her happiness, Marc gave chase, and left their
vehicles in the middle of the street for anyone to discover.
Angela was able to match Marc shot for shot until he moved the cans back so far that she could barely view them. After missing half, and him missing none, she put her gun away.
“That’s not a challenge for you, is it?”
Marc shrugged, expression shuttered. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe. Stand by that speed limit sign.”
Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment.
“If you like.”
It was amazing to watch. When she asked him to go farther, Marc did it with no comment, just a curious glance that she chose not to answer. He was wondering if she was seeing a showdown between him and her man.
She was.
Marc didn’t miss a single shot, and Angela knew instinctively that this still wasn’t hard for him. Marc was good. Better than anyone she’d ever seen, maybe even Kenn, who liked to take her to the range but not let her shoot. Designed to rub in how defenseless she was, it was yet another difference declaring these two men worlds apart. Kenn had been her warden, while Marc... He was her protector.
He makes me feel safe, she realized, watching him holster his gun and move toward her. Marc was a good man; one she trusted, cared about…one she still wanted.
Angela smelled him as he stepped by, smoke, sweat, and, deep underneath, sexy, musky man. Her nostrils flared, and she inhaled deeply, instinctively, before it was gone. Feeling the restless yearning of her heart, she turned away, suddenly lost and hurting. They’d missed so much!
“You all right?”
It was a question that he couldn’t stop asking, and Angela stared at the thinner layer of sky grit instead of his handsome face. She could almost feel the sun again, but even the good things couldn’t distract her from the fear, the desires. There was no way this would end well.
“Just thinking.”
“Care to share?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Marc could feel her unease, her sadness, and he tried one last time to get her to take the easy way out. “Let’s grab him and go. We’ll find other people to settle down and rebuild with.”
“I can’t.”
Marc sighed. “Because you owe him.”
Angela chose to give him complete honesty, whether he was ready to hear it or not. “Not anymore. When he left me out here to fend for myself–hoping I couldn’t, that I wouldn’t–it cancelled our deal more than anything else he’s done.”
“Then why?”
“It’s hard to explain. I’m going for my son, but there’s something else pulling at me too, at the other side of me. I dream a lot. I’m sure you know.”
Marc knew it well. The nightmares had come less often, but when they did, they seemed worse. Twice, she’d woken him up screaming about a metal monster.
“I dream of a refugee camp most nights, and it’s full of people. Our kind of people, and they need help. I want to belong there. I want us to be a part of that protection.”
There wasn’t a lot Marc could say to that. Being alone with her was great, but it couldn’t stay this way. “In the same group as your man? Don’t you think that’s asking a little much?”
“Of course it is. For now, our son’s all that matters, anyway. We’ll handle it as it comes.”
“Remember the night we made him?”
Marc hadn’t meant to say it out loud and was relieved when Angie only blushed.
“No, not so much.”
“Ouch. That hurts.” He feigned being crushed, aware that he really felt it–he’d thought of little else during sex for the last fifteen years.
Her voice softened a bit. “Don’t ask questions unless…”
“…you’re prepared to hear the answer,” he finished, laughing with her.
“We could talk about it,” Marc teased. “Maybe you’d recall.”
“No need to.”
“So you do remember?”
Marc watched her eyes glow a smoky, midnight blue, and he tensed.
Angela was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “All the time, at first. I’d think about you, and I’d wonder what raven-haired, blue-eyed whore you were with. I’d wonder if you were able to sleep afterward, if you stayed until morning and kissed her lips, if you promised to love her forever as you walked out the door.”
Marc took a step forward, heart aching. “No Angie, to all of it. I’ve only had one love, only said it once, and I meant it. Forever hasn’t come yet.”
A tear spilled from under her dark lashes. “Don’t. It hurts.”
“I’d take it away if I could.”
“You have, some of it. Knowing you came back means something to me.”
Marc blinked. “I didn’t think you knew.”
“I picked it up a while back.” She shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”
“I didn’t,” he admitted tersely.
“You would rather I went on thinking that you didn’t come back for me?”
“Yes,” Marc said quickly.
Angela frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to hate you for it?”
“Because you should,” he told her emotionally. “I knew you’d forgive me. You’re a good person, but I have to be punished.”
“Because I was hurt?”
“Because you were being hurt right then and I let my cowardice keep me from helping you!” he almost shouted. “I’ve never run from anything in my life! …except you.”
The pain she’d been carrying all these years dropped like a stone into an ocean and flooded her with warmth. He’d been scared to face her. It was the one explanation that she had never considered.
“I allowed you to be harmed,” Marc said, awash with the shame he’d held in check for so long. “It’s unforgivable.”
“It was fate.”
Marc was startled from his self-evisceration. “What?”
Angela tried to be comforting, resisting the urge to wrap him in her arms. “One of you would have died that day. The other would have gone to prison. Fate didn’t want that and neither did I.”
“You don’t want either of us dead or gone,” he repeated, dazed at how fast she’d ripped him open and then begun healing him from the inside.
“No. I owe him my son, Marc. Charlie wouldn’t be waiting for me in that refugee camp if Kenn hadn’t cared for us all these years.”
“That wasn’t care,” Marc insisted angrily. “It was ownership.”
“I know,” Angela answered. “But it allowed us to survive. Fate has jobs for all of us. I believe that.”
Marc didn’t want any part of fate and the cruelties that were always for the greater good. “I don’t.”
“I know.” Angela smiled. “Fate brought you back into my life, Marc. Not when either of us wanted it, but when it was needed. You’ll see that in time, I think.”
Marc rolled his eyes and Angela giggled.
The awful tension was broken and sadness took its place.
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock,” Marc said. He was relieved, but wasn’t sure it was okay to feel that way.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Angela admitted. “Fate or not, if I could do it over, I’d call you.”
That was enough for Marc to be able to let it go. He put his hand out. “Truce?”
She shook it, and said, “Didn’t know we were at war.”
Angela let her hand linger. Contact with another human, skin sliding across hers in warmth, was something she had missed.
When he moved toward her, she held still, needing to discover if the stray curls of want she’d been feeling were real. Could she be whole again, in time?
Marc saw her nostrils flare as his hands came up to her face, and she shut her eyes when his palm slid along her cheek, thumb rubbing across her bottom lip.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, leaning forward. “A goddess.”
Marc pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, felt her sudden intake of breath. N
ot sure if it was fear or desire, he pulled back. “Angie?”
Her hands curled into balls, wanting his kiss, wanting to be faithful. Not sure, either, about that flood of heat low in her gut, Angela melted into his arms and tilted her mouth up.
Marc didn’t give her time to change her mind. He gave her the welcome he had been saving since she’d recoiled from him in Indiana.
Angela stiffened as his hand slid to the back of her neck, but the mouth against hers was sweet. He gently tugged her closer, and she curled her arms around his neck, lost in the first real passion she had felt in too many years.
Marc deepened the kiss, let their tongues touch, rub, and the doors between their minds swung open, thoughts mixing.
Missed you!
Need you!
Taste like a woman.
Smell like a man.
My woman.
My man.
The last one made Angela gasp against his mouth, and she slammed the doors, broke the kiss in surprise. So much feeling in a single embrace!
Marc glanced away to lie. “I’m sorry.”
“Brady.”
Her voice was rough, sexy, and he looked back slowly, prepared to hear almost anything.
“It wasn’t fear.”
Marc laughed, body hard and heart light. It was gonna be a good day.
Angela’s thoughts were along the same line, and she was hoping that feeling would stay with her through the hard reunion she knew was coming. She had a plan of action based on what little she had picked up about the people Kenn had joined. Marc would have to watch his ass, but there might be a chance for peace if her Marine could be reasoned with. She would know within the first few hours of being around Kenn’s people if that stood a chance. If not, she would use the backup. They would run.
After all this time with Marc, there was no way she could return to being what she’d been before–caged. There was no way the witch or the old Angela would allow that. They’d kill Kenny first.
3
Angela ducked under Marc’s arm, grunting in effort. She spun and dropped, throwing her leg out to trip him.
Anticipating, Marc jumped, but she’d counted on that and immediately spun again, leg catching his ankle as he landed.