Life After War: Books 1-3

by Angela White

  She hesitated, dead eyes of her first kill flashing through her mind, and Adrian shook his head when Kenn would have said something sharp.

  Angela blinked away the past. “Sorry. Illinois was ugly. I don’t think we saw one normal thing in the whole state.” Her eyes went glassy again with pain. “There was a rabbit, but I’m pretty sure it died too. Illinois and Nebraska were killing fields.”

  She gave him a very brief rundown of their battle with the wolves and fell silent, liking most of the thoughts floating around the table… Strong woman. Good thing she’d had the Wolfman.

  She didn’t say anything else, and the Eagles at the table waited for Adrian, knowing he had more questions.

  “What about radiation sickness?”

  She answered him in detail, pulling it easily from her mind, and was almost sorry when he was done and went back to talking camp business with his men. Her time with Brady wasn't mentioned. While they handled small issues, Angela’s eyes swept over the guards she could see, recognizing their patterns and weapons from her training with Brady. Seeing them was a comfort.

  Adrian noted how she stared at one part of the camp and stayed on it until she figured out how things worked before moving on. Just like an Eagle would. How much real training had Marc been able to give her?

  “You gonna defend tomorrow?”

  Doug's question drew Angela's attention, and she watched as Kenn grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  “Yeah. Be at the practice too in case you want to see how much I’m gonna win by,” the Marine boasted. The table erupted with challenges and laughs, making it the place everyone else wanted to be.

  “In that case, excuse me while I go rig the targets.”

  They laughed again as Neil left, and Angela felt their bond of leadership, was suddenly overcome with longing to be a regular member of Adrian’s table rather than just an invited guest.

  The sights and sounds of everyday life were bittersweet for her, loving and loathing the voices raised in conversations, the low mutters of curiosity and disapproval, along with the almost constant crunch of footsteps as the guards watched for problems. It was worlds away from how she'd spent the last months, and every peal of young laughter from the kids’ area sent fresh pain into her heart. If she had been with these people, she wouldn't have lost her baby. Adrian would have been able to help because he was stronger than she was. She didn’t need the Witch to mutter it. She already knew.

  Adrian (and others) noticed at she and Kenn didn’t speak to each other, didn’t even make eye contact. When the leader saw her wince at the can of Mountain Dew against her lip, he told himself to remind Kenn of everything he was risking.

  “Ready?” Adrian asked.

  "Sure."

  He ignored Kenn’s frown as Angela got up quickly, clearing her mess.

  Unwilling to let them leave, Kenn took out his notebook, stalling. The more time alone with Adrian she had, the sooner the blond would figure it all out. “Will you be at the practice?”

  Adrian shrugged, smoothly lighting a Kool in the heavy, warm wind.

  “We’ll be by, but I still have a lot of stops left. I’m not shooting anyway, I’m officiating.”

  Kenn nodded, and even though Angela knew he was furious, she heard none of it in his voice.

  “John says the blonde’s all right for the most part. Severely underweight, dehydrated, exhausted. Says she’ll be out of the QZ by nightfall or so. Also said he’s taking his time on the men, especially the one she came in with.”

  The others at the table wondered why Kenn hadn’t mentioned that right away to ease Adrian’s mind, but their leader only looked at the Marine with cool eyes.

  “Have you gotten his full yet?”

  “No. They’re separated, and I told the guards to come get me if they’re seen talking, but she’s still out. John gave her another sedative.”

  “Get his story first thing in the morning. The earlier the better.”

  Kenn looked up in surprised pleasure. “You want me to do it?”

  “You’ve been with me enough times. Come see me afterwards.”

  “You know it.”

  To the camp, Adrian appeared to be firmly behind the Marine, but Angela knew he planned to have them watched anyway, maybe even talk to the new man himself.

  She was comforted a bit under all the misgivings, understanding that this was to remind Kenn of how much he was trusted.

  Kenn’s heart was warmed by the public (in front of Angela) display of his high place here, wanting her to be impressed.

  She was, but not with him. Only with Adrian, who obviously knew how to handle her temperamental Marine.

  As they left, the men at the table (and enough of the eating camp to start a rumor) noticed that she and Kenn hadn’t acknowledged each other’s presence. There was clearly no love between them. Even couples who fought had more warmth. And then there was the way she’d flinched or twitched every time the Marine got loud or moved too fast. Confused and getting even more suspicious, none of the guards lingered, each wanting Kenn to feel their disapproval.

  He did. His heart was thumping as they fell out of sight. She had been in camp less than six hours and it had already begun to start damaging his place here. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d never planned for her surviving the trip.

  2

  “So where to next?” Angela asked as they headed for a corner of the long camp with only a single perimeter guard in sight.

  “Your boy should be working outside with the dogs soon. I thought we’d go watch.”

  Angela grinned, pleasure lighting up her face, and Adrian forced himself to look away. She had a man. Two of them, actually, and she’d won over almost all of his chain-of-command in a few short hours. If she were a demon-in-disguise, then they were in deep trouble.

  “I’m not, and I won’t.”

  His brow arched as he glanced at her questioningly. “Won’t what?”

  “Play with your men.”

  A little embarrassed, a feeling he didn’t experience often, Adrian grinned coolly. “You sure? We have a resident whore, but there’d be no competition.”

  Stung, the Witch surged forward and moved them a step closer, body sending out a sharp wave of need that the men closest had to stop themselves from answering.

  Adrian sucked in a breath as vanilla wrapped around his body like an inviting hand, and he watched her eyes turn to that rolling, smoky blue.

  “Only two men have ever been between my legs and either of them would kill to be there now. A whore, I have never been.”

  Adrian fought the desire to take her up on the challenge. “It was a tasteless joke. I app …”

  “Don’t.” Angela stepped back, the red haze clearing. Her voice was low, embarrassed. “I’m the one who should apologize. I haven’t... fed well these last months, and it weakens my control.”

  It was hard for her, even letting him have that much information, and she looked away, unsure. What was it about the leader that made her want to spill everything?

  Adrian lit a cigarette, wanting to offer whatever she needed.

  Angela shook her head, voice distressed. “I hate to do it. It’s… intense.”

  His eyes were unreadable, mind spinning. She had to power her gifts. She needed… food. He would take care of that too.

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “And I didn’t mean to provoke you.”

  “My men couldn't keep up with you anyway.”

  Angela smiled, blushing at the compliment, and the tension eased, not only for them, but for those watching as they started walking again.

  The silence was still a bit thick, and Angela started to ask him about her son’s job, then stopped, looking around as the voices whispered. Her eyes swept the tents and nearby showers, the curious groups of people, and then settled on a very sexy redhead in calf-high black boots and a short red summer dress coming from the Mess.

  The woman’s made-up face was
sneering, her green eyes locked on Adrian as she sauntered toward them, and Angela felt the man at her side tense. She took a step forward, not questioning the need to do battle for him, and Adrian wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  Tonya had been watching them all morning, her anger and jealousy growing with each laugh and smile, with each introduction, and she moved in front of them with spite in her glowing green eyes. She knew Kenn’s woman for what she was - a threat to her plans. She suspected instantly that Adrian’s interest was more personal than business.

  “So who’s the Barbie?” she questioned snidely, raking her eyes over Angela.

  Adrian blew out a sigh of annoyance that hid his eagerness to see the Sorceress handle this. First he had to tell her that it was okay to do so and see if she took the hint.

  “This is Angela, our new Doctor. Useful. This is Tonya. She’s no one. Useless.”

  The redhead’s heavily-painted face iced over and she gave Angela a look that said meanness was coming from under that fake southern accent.

  “So you’re the timid little mouse he didn’t want enough ta go back for.”

  Angela gave her a knowing smile as the Witch whispered, “You must be the resident whore Adrian spoke of…” Her smiled widened. “And the piece of ass Kenn’s too ashamed to admit to.”

  Adrian laughed out loud, couldn’t help himself.

  Tonya’s face turned the color of her dress. “He never said that!”

  The accent was gone now, and Angela smirked. “Didn’t have to. My Marine likes them with their mouths and legs always open. I just added up the clues.”

  She started to step by, and stopped, leaning close enough for the redhead to see tiny, gold flames dancing in her blue eyes. “When I’m threatened, I don’t play games. I go for blood… but in this case he’s not worth the effort. You want him? He’s yours.”

  Angela moved away, and Adrian followed, grinning at the unusual flash of fear he saw on Tonya's face. “Next time, be nice,” he warned, and was still smiling as he caught up.

  Angela gave him a tense, angry look. “Sorry. Some people rub me the wrong way. She’s gonna be one of them.”

  Adrian chuckled, mood growing better by the minute. “Tonya’s a snake. She has no real friends here.”

  “That does not surprise me.”

  3

  They slipped under the caution tape that wound around the entire perimeter of the camp and as they got out of sight, Angela began to hear male tones raised in excitement. She felt herself stiffen, but the Witch looked around eagerly.

  Five long semis were parked bumper-to-bumper, blocking her view, and Adrian turned to her. There were no words, only thoughts. After a minute, she nodded, liking it that he would talk with her this way. He was definitely her kind. “You have my word. I won’t mention anything I see.”

  He led her around the trucks, and she understood the need for secrecy right away. It looked like a military base, and the two dozen or so heavily-sweating men in the grassy area that was easily as long as a football field looked like they were training for war. Closed in on three sides, the area was under an enormous green canopy, with dark, canvas walls that waved in the gusting wind.

  The open side was covered by the semis and the perimeter guard. When Angela saw the rolled up tarp on top, she understood that if a warning was called, it would be dropped to quickly hide what was obviously a basic training area.

  “Welcome to Fort Haven.”

  Angela’s eyes couldn’t keep up with everything she saw at first, kept being drawn to the American flag over the doorway, and she could feel the power of the place. “This is special to you - to your vision of the future.”

  Adrian kept his voice low. “This is the most important part of the camp. They think I’m training a police force back here, but it’s really the new world’s first army. My Army.”

  Angela felt a shiver of connection as he talked, the Witch whispering of patriotism and a duty to his country that would rival the Founding Fathers.

  “We survived because we’re strong, and I encourage that, but moreover, I teach them honor and strength of mind. They spend two hours a day here, usually a bit at each area, being assessed, guided, and taught. I’ve made it the only truly respected job for a man again, that of protector, and only those who truly believe in what we’re doing are able to move up the ranks.”

  “You stack the deck,” she stated casually.

  Adrian didn’t consider lying. “Of course, and I walk a fine line for it, but the good of this camp always comes first. I promised them, and the future is part of that duty. A well-trained group of soldiers is a must-have, especially in a world where the old government could start crawling out of their holes anytime and demand control over everything again. Most people wouldn’t have a choice, but we will.”

  His firm conviction and hope for them was clear, as was his belief in himself and these men, and she was humbled by how deeply he carried his American spirit. “Show me your army.”

  The sun was no longer able to fight its way through the grit as they stepped carefully into the tent, keeping out of the way of the man running full-speed around the edges, a nearby guard holding a clipboard and stopwatch.

  There were three office-style cubicles set up to the far right that she couldn’t see into from where they stood, also being monitored by a guard. Directly in front of them were four men laboring on big home-gyms, a fifth man trying, with some success, to walk the length of a tightrope tied to two low cinder blocks roughly the size and shape of ten manhole covers stacked together.

  There was a table next to the gym, covered in guns and ammo, and the men there were deep in concentration as they loaded their weapons at the guard’s word. They were blindfolded, like Marc had her doing from almost the start. He said in a fight, your eyes were needed in other places, that your hands just had to know what to do, and then looking wouldn’t be necessary. He’d been right.

  To the far left were walls of straw bales that formed a neat barrier all the way up to the roof. What was in there?

  “We’ll watch for a minute then slip out the back,” Adrian stated quietly, moving to the right.

  Angela nodded, thinking not one of the men had even looked their way. Were they taught to block out everything else? How?

  They headed for the cubicles and as they rounded the corner, Angela saw TVs and game systems set up, the cords all running under the tent to where? A generator that was so quiet she couldn’t hear it? To a battery system of some sort?

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Angela’s hand flew to her gun, startled at the shout, and Adrian put a light hand on her arm as men stood up, moved her way with heavy frowns.

  “Stand down,” he said, eyes telling them he was pleased by their reactions.

  Angela flushed, realizing she was the threat they were responding to. Her face stayed red as she realized how badly she’d underestimated them. They had been aware of her the second she’d come into sight.

  “She’s one of us. Resume your sets.”

  They all went back to what they were doing, and when she started to apologize for distracting them, Adrian stopped her. “Don’t. It shows who’s serious and who’s learned. This is the fun side of the room.”

  There was a game on each screen, a different type of training, and the benefit of each was clear to her. The first man was using orange plastic guns to shoot at ducks and clay pigeons, a classic as far as she was concerned. The second was ambushing the enemy on a strategic game that had been very popular just before the War, but it was the last six-by-six cubicle that really got, then held, her attention.

  The man inside was one of the guards who had responded to her flinch. Tall, he wore no shirt over his lean swimmer’s body, hard, sweaty hips disappearing into army fatigues. He was beautiful and for a moment, the woman inside was frozen in lust.

  The redhead stood on a white mat with colored designs, adjusting mirrors and earpieces as the instructions challenged him to hit the arrow
on the mat that corresponded to the ones set to flash on the screen. Angela watched eagerly as the round began.

  His movements were graceful, sensual arms and back flexing with the rhythm he was hearing, and she wondered what it was as the hunger inside her sniffed eagerly. She’d been denied the company of healthy men before the War, a coveted prize to be secreted away, and it was a struggle to adjust.

  Seth jumped, scoring a bonus, and as he turned, hips thrusting provocatively, their eyes met. Seth stumbled.

  The redhead frowned, tearing his eyes from hers to find his place in the mirrors, and Angela expected him to turn back around so he could concentrate, but the sweaty guard only tried not to make eye contact, body moving in unspoken invitation.

  Still lost, Angela was unable to keep herself from slipping into his head, and she smiled at the haunting strains of “Hotel California”. It was one of her favorites. There was a sexy magic in the way the man controlled every muscle in his body, not missing a beat of the dance as the tempo increased, and Angela felt herself swaying along, eyes full of electricity that sparked every time he looked up at her.

  Adrian could feel the want rolling off the woman at his side, knew Seth was responding to her silent pull though he was trying hard not to, and the leader wondered if the lust in the air came from her or the hunger she had spoken of.

  Adrian’s thought sank in and Angela sucked in a breath, then turned around to shove the Witch back into her cell.

  Seth slid the earpiece out so he could hear them, body on fire. He already felt like he knew her and was suddenly sure he would, intimately.

  “You okay?”

  Angela nodded at Adrian’s question. “Sorry. Dancing runs deep in our blood.”

  Her tone was rough, sexy, and when Seth tripped again, losing the round, Adrian gave him an understanding look. “You can do it all again.”

  Seth’s intense green eyes burned holes into her back. “Whenever she says.”