by Angela White
Adrian caught his eye. “So are you. The past is dead. Try to leave it there.”
The Marine nodded, but Adrian was sure he had wasted his breath as he handed Kenn a cold beer from the cooler. “You have things for me?”
Grateful, Kenn opened his notebook. By all rights, he should be on the way to pack his shit and get out. Or maybe on his way to lying beside the road with one of Kyle’s happily-fired bullets in the back of his head. “We’re low on…”
4
When Kenn left Adrian’s tent, he was calmer, but the ball of anger was still there, waiting. It flared back to life when he got to his tent and found it empty. Had she broken their truce and snuck out to Brady?
No. He could hear the soft murmur of voices nearby. She was in the boy’s tent, and there was no way he could just jerk her out of there by that long black hair like the rage was demanding. What to do? Find a release.
Tonya moaned, wrapping her arms around Danny’s narrow shoulders as he pushed her back against the boxes. Images of her night with Adrian flashed through her mind, turning up the heat. He thrust against her, shoving her anxiously into the corner, she frowned at him, thinking he wasn’t half the man the blond was.
“Yeah... ohh... yeah.”
Danny’s bare hips flashed in the dim lantern light, and she arched up to meet his wild thrusts, already knowing he was going to blow before she could. What a waste of time this had been.
The dirty man dipped his head to her ample chest, nearing the edge. Tonya froze as a menacing shadow stepped up into the semi and closed the door.
“What?...uhhh!”
A cold draft hit Danny’s twitching flesh as he was pulled back and spun around. Milky white splatters sprayed the truck floor, boxes, and Kenn’s boots. Danny, caught in the moment of climax, didn’t even try to avoid the meaty fist that flew toward him. He hit the metal floor with a loud thud, lights fading, as Tonya cowered in the corner.
Kenn stepped over Danny’s limp body toward her. The redhead had obviously found something (someone) to do during his short absence.
Tonya wisely kept her mouth shut. When his eyes glittered, big hands going to the buckle of his jeans, scarlet heat flooded her body.
Kenn grabbed her arm, shoved her face down over the boxes she’d been leaning on, and Tonya, unsure about him at this moment, felt a tremor of fear and an earthquake of lust. She had written him off when she’d seen his woman. She knew her limits, but apparently things weren’t peachy in their world.
The angry Marine kept a hand on her arm, holding her down as he nudged her thighs further open. When he rocked forward, sinking deep, she pushed back against him in pleasure, body clenching around his. This was what she’d wanted when she’d seen Danny alone by the fire.
Needing her to know who was boss, Kenn pulled out of her hot heat and pushed into the next opening up, wrapping a hand around her mouth to stop the scream from following the surprised breath she’d sucked in. He slammed in deeper, leaning into it as she struggled against him, and he pulled her back by her arm, dog tags swinging against his chest. He was thrusting hard, filling her… and Tonya moaned softly against his hand, sounding a lot like the man slowly coming to at their feet.
Kenn pushed deeper, her gasp of pain swelling him, and then he was out, turning, hand working hard flesh. He hissed in satisfaction, seed falling on Danny's bruised face.
Kenn delivered a nasty kick to the moaning man’s side as he stepped back. “Find your own Whore!”
He looked at Tonya with hard, flashing blue eyes, fastened his jeans. “Get this shit cleaned up and get to your tent. We’re not done.”
5
Before ten, Safe Haven was quiet, most people inside their tents.
Angela slipped out, eager to get a shower without standing in line and being stared at. She shivered at a gust of wind sweeping by and moved faster, eyes finding Adrian and a group of guards at the center Mess table. His words of knowing everything that went on, rolled through her mind. He was a man to take at face value for sure, but there were wells in him deep enough to get lost in.
Angela let the hot water beat down on her, eyes closed, as a smile of delight filled her face. She hadn’t had a real shower with water she could adjust the temperature on since December, and it hadn’t felt nearly as good as this. She took a few extra minutes to groom, delighted that the water was actually hot. She soaped her hair twice, grinning the whole time as some of the stink of her journey washed off, went down the drain. She’d made it. She was here.
Angela was frowning again by the time she turned off the water, wondering if Brady had gotten one yet. Was he out of quarantine? She hated being away from him, hated how empty her heart felt, but she didn’t call out like she wanted to. She was afraid people would feel it, but more than that, she knew it was wrong to encourage him. They would have to be careful or leave, but every time Angela thought of that, of being alone with Marc and their son, the Witch whispered of death and unhappiness, and she knew better than to ignore the warnings. She had Charlie back, some of her freedom, and there was a sense of being in the right place at the right time that made her want to stay. She was sure she would unless Kenn forced her hand.
Angela lingered on the dusty camper’s top step, the gentle breeze cooling her skin, and looked over the camp. Safe Haven. Was it really?
“Show me,” she commanded softly.
The flickering lights from the can-fires began to form movies, revealing dangerous rescues, defenses, and… secrets, lies. It made her frown as her eyes traveled over the neat, mostly darkened tents. Black-clad shadows patrolled the well-lit group of weary travelers, but they were surrounded by a violent, unknown world nonetheless.
“He’ll protect them with all he has,” the Witch informed her, and doors rattled in her mind - forbidden, locked doors to the future. “We could open them with his help. The future waits.”
As if called, her eyes swung to see the man nearby.
Adrian slowly went to her, trying not to stare. He gave her a polite smile, scent of vanilla thick in his nose. “You have everything you need?”
Her heart screamed, went straight to spending the night without Brady.
Adrian stored that wild look as he let out a sigh. “I’ll rephrase. Do you have everything you need that I can give you?”
Angela nodded quickly, sorry she wasn’t hiding it better. “Everything's fine.”
Adrian grunted, knowing it wasn’t true. “Good. So, have you chosen to stay and help us? Me?”
She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Kenn will get in the way of anything I try to build here. My dreams don’t mean shit to him.”
She stated it bitterly, and Adrian's eyes were intense, full of passion. “But he does believe in mine. He’ll come to see the benefits of having you here.”
Angela looked at him. “Only if you send away my protection.”
There was a desperate plea in that last word, a cry for assurance, and Adrian gave it firmly. “Never. He belongs here too, just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Neither do I.”
The words were low, and he nodded. “You will. Just give it some time, give me some time.”
Angela sighed, looking over the peacefully settled camp. “I’ll need to keep busy.”
“I have work for you.”
Angela felt her heart leap at the offer, needing something to replace her time with Marc. If she waited, if she thought about all the trouble it would cause, she’d never do it. But, right now, with Adrian’s patient eyes on her, she felt this was her chance, her place in time, and she wouldn’t get another. Kenn would see to that.
“Yes, I’ll stay, but give me real work, something that matters,” she said, unknowingly echoing her son’s words to him.
“Make me feel needed, wanted, and then maybe I too can follow where you lead.”
6
“I’d like to talk, if you have a minute.”
Samantha jumped, and spun to see Adrian standing by the camper she’d
just come from. She had been hoping the intimidating leader would have other fish to fry right now.
“Sorry. Busy?”
Flinching again at a trio of loud, curious camp members moving by, she quickly shook her head, and Adrian waved a hand toward his tent.
“Good. Let’s chat.”
Sam went slowly, thinking she wasn’t ready to have this conversation with frayed nerves and a sleep hangover from the sedatives. When they walked in silence, the Storm Tracker was glad for the moment to collect her thoughts.
Adrian left the flap open, but she was still reminded of her time in Cesar’s camp - of Jose’s attack, and Samantha’s stomach twisted painfully.
Feeling her tension, Adrian gestured to the small table and chairs. “Have a seat while I get us a drink. Soda, water, or tea?”
Picking the one hardest to tamper with came easily to her as she sat in the chair closest to the doorway. “Soda.”
Adrian watched her from the corner of his eye as he poured himself a cup of tea, thinking she looked very worried for someone who had just found safety. Too worried?
He joined her at the table, seeing, and hating, her flinch when he set his cup down a bit too hard. He suspected she and Angela had a lot in common, but where Brady had been there to help Angie, this woman had been alone and survived as best she could. Now, he would set her free. That, too, was in the fine print of his duties.
“There are rules here, and you’ll learn them, but one is more important than any of the others. We have no violence against women. The penalties are too high. I know you’ll feel better with this, but you don’t need it.” Butt first and slowly, Adrian held out the .45 from his boot.
Sam took it reluctantly, not wanting to offend him, but eager for the comfort it would provide her tonight while she was sleeping alone. No one could take away what the boss had given her.
“Keep it close until you feel you don’t need it anymore, and then give it back for the next abused woman who comes here.”
She nodded, clearly surprised, and he smiled casually. “So tell me, Ms. Moore, what did you do before the War?”
His unexpected change of subject caught her off guard, and she froze.
“Your career? What did you contribute to society?”
Sam looked away. Cesar hadn’t seen her value and neither had Melvin or Henry. Would this man? “I was a Storm Tracker.”
Adrian sat back, mind racing over it. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I chased the wind, played with the equipment, and tried not to get myself killed.”
Adrian’s eyes cooled a little. “If you have a gift Samantha, now’s the time for using it. We need you.”
His chiding tone sank into her loneliness and some of the truth was out before she knew she was going to tell him. “I can sometimes predict them, from the data. I had a pass to the Essex compound. My chopper crashed.”
Hiding his pleasure, Adrian leaned forward. “We would have a place for you even if you only babysit. What matters right now is one question. Are you a spy?”
Samantha shook her head, eyes not leaving his. “No. Never.”
“What about the man you came in with?”
She looked away, frowning. “I don’t know… maybe.”
Adrian was surprised, had expected a firm denial. They were both already under 24-hour watch.
“Can I have a smoke?”
Adrian slid his lighter and mostly full pack toward her.
“Keep those. Why don’t you think he’s good, like you and me?” he asked.
Sam felt better, just as he intended. She recognized it and still felt it.
“Because he was a slave too, and we never should have been able to ride out... I think it was too easy, like he was waiting for me to bring up escaping.” She stopped to draw in a lungful of smoke that shot back out as she spoke. “I told Kenn everything I could remember, and that Rick got me out, but I wonder what he used to buy our freedom. There’s no way we escaped, and the only currency Cesar takes is blood. I have no proof ... but I think him risking his life as the man on the inside is what’s going on. They made a deal and I fell for it.”
Adrian’s face betrayed none of his increasing worry. “We have good security here. He’s already being watched. We’ll catch him in the act if he is, but for now, we wait and watch. Me and my men, not you. It’s my job.”
Sam knew she was being manipulated, but nodded without hesitation. It would keep her from being responsible and she felt a heavy weight leave her shoulders. She was giving that chore up. To this man.
“Will you have me watched too?” she asked suddenly.
Adrian gave her a cool look. “Do I need to?”
“No, of course not, but I know I would if I were you.”
The calm, reasonable tone made Adrian crack a real smile, and he changed the subject again without giving her an answer. “Tell me more about your job, Sam. What exactly is a storm tracker and why did it earn you a pass?”
7
Back in her tent a bit later, Samantha lay on her sleeping bag, tired but unable to drift off. The sedative the dark-haired woman (Angel?) had given her hadn’t faded until her shower, and now she was wide awake. The shrewd Doctor or his sweet wife would have given her a pill, but she hadn’t asked, knowing there were things going on in Safe Haven that she would need a clear head for.
Sam still thought this could be a Slaver camp, just with prettier edges. Some of the people here were bad, like Kenn. He beat on his wife. She and Marc had been in the medical tent together for a while, Rick separated, and while she recognized Brady for what he was, a fool in love with what he couldn’t have, she suspected Kenn was a lot like Cesar on the inside. It was only after watching from the tent flap that she had realized these people didn’t know that side of him existed. Or at least they hadn’t until his wife had shown up. There was no way they could have known, because there was no fear, no one avoiding him, just the opposite in fact. Kenn was everywhere, respected and high up. Adrian’s right hand.
Sam frowned at that thought. There was something familiar about the leader, something that made her think of the months she’d spent in Washington, preparing the lab (and, staying close to the White House while the president was in town). Had she seen him there? A flash of a man getting out of a cab in the rain? It didn’t really matter to her, who he’d been before, so long as he was a good man now, but she was curious just the same.
Sam curled her arm over her eyes, other hand caressing the gun under the blanket. She did feel better with its cold comfort, and there was no doubt she was glad to have found people that seemed decent, but Rick was dangerous. She knew it and wished she had more experience with guns, other than knowing too clearly that they were the difference between being free and being a slave.
The worrying was in her nature, and it nauseated Sam that her body seemed to be looking for Rick’s warmth. They had traveled hard and fast, and he didn't talk to her at all unless he had to, didn’t answer any of her questions, not even about where he was from or what he did before the War. He just kept moving them northeast by day and crawling between her legs at night.
The fact that they hadn’t made a single detour told her that he had known these people were here. This is where he’d been heading. He had wanted Angela too, but if he’d seen the men with her before it was too late, he would have kept going. His weren’t the actions of someone looking for good people to join up with. Rick was infiltrating this camp. Had, she corrected herself.
Sam sighed. There was no proof of that, but knew it just the same, and was glad Adrian was a strong leader, freeing her from the heavy chore of watching Rick’s every move. Now she had only to distance herself from him, preferably publicly, so it would get back to the blond leader, and then try to start pulling herself together. Rick had taken advantage of her at the very least, and she never wanted him to touch her again.
“Really?” her body challenged, and she was hit with waves of erotic images of them on the way here
; bent over the hood of a limo, pushing frantically against each other in his sleeping bag, straddling him on the horse as it thundered under them. His touch had been like fire to her, and she felt her body responding to mere thoughts, followed by that familiar ache that eased her mind a bit. At least she hadn’t caught pregnant. She’d worried over it a little in the last week, not quite sure if she was late or not, and it was a relief to know she wasn’t about to have Rick’s child.
Sam rolled over, cradling the gun. He hadn't forced her, hadn’t abused her… and deep down, she hoped she was wrong. She would end things with him soon - tomorrow maybe - and then start rebuilding her life, she told herself, pushing away the voice whispering that she and everyone else was now in danger because of her lover’s loyalty to a vicious killer.
8
Rick paced the floor of his tent, nervous and confused. He had spent all day in here and well into the evening now, still quarantined by the elderly doctor who had taken his time coming and then left as fast as he could. The disapproving healer had given only evasive answers to even normal questions about the guards and people, and Rick was tense.
There was a level of awareness in this camp that he hadn’t faced before, but he already knew something wasn’t right. Someone should have been by to talk to him, wanting information Samantha wouldn't have. He’d expected her, some guards, Kenn, and their leader (knowing instinctively that the blond man was the most dangerous one here), but no one had come.
Why not? A trick? Unlikely. Just didn’t recognize the threat even with all the alertness? Maybe. Most of the people he had seen so far were the prey. The fear behind the eyes was very clear to Rick after existing with the Slavers for all this time, but there were some who were serious, alert, and he didn’t like how many armed, uniformed guards he saw. He already had a rough idea of how their shifts changed, but gathering more information would have to wait. Suspicious eyes returned to him again and again whenever he opened the flap.