From the Ashes

by Angela White

  Marc had taught each of his team a special move, one that would disarm an off-guard opponent in less than a minute. They’d learned fast.

  Paul used his leaping chest kick to daze Greg and then a vicious roundhouse to land the Eagle on his back. He grabbed the tags and easily gave them to Adrian while Greg tried to recover. Being a test overseer had some disadvantages.

  “Pass. Next!”

  Quinn jumped down from the stands and sauntered into the cage, not bothering to play his part in Marc’s game. Jax was already hot enough to injure whoever he faced, and Quinn had his eye on Cynthia. The reporter was incredibly sexy with a gun on her hip. If only she wasn’t so aloof. Didn’t she understand that she’d been forgiven?

  Crone, the top fighter on Kyle’s team, growled, “Ready, boy?”

  Quinn didn’t answer, busy getting set.

  “Go!”

  Marc watched Quinn run and heft Crone into the air for a quick slam against the bars and head butt that sent the bigger man to his knees. A fast knee to the chest, and Crone sagged, still trying to swing back.

  The crowd roared for Quinn to finish him off, but when Marc shook his head, Quinn finished the test without delivering the expected final blow. He dropped the tags into Adrian’s satisfied hand.

  “Pass. Who’s next?” Adrian asked.

  Marc’s men stepped forward eagerly, and the overseeing Eagles began to eye them as if they had the plague.

  Marc laughed, enjoying himself.

  “I’ll go,” Daryl offered. The XO took up his position with a hard face.

  Everyone thought Kyle’s team was unbeatable, that they gave up every cage match anyone had passed. Marc was determined to prove that popular belief wrong. Kyle’s team were the best overall–they’d had more experience than Marc’s men–but when it came to teaching men to fight, Brady was worlds better.

  Shane got to the steps before Jax could and stripped his guns with a taunt. “Watch this, kid.”

  Shane had ten years on the rest of Marc’s team, years that he liked to rub in when they were facing a challenge that he knew how to handle. It made for an awkward group some days.

  Marc gave Adrian a subtle confirmation, telling him this one needed a lesson.

  Adrian caught Daryl’s eye. Put him in his place.

  Despite liking Shane, Daryl shrugged. What the boss wanted, he got.

  “Go!”

  Shane lunged forward and Daryl kicked, catching the cocky man just inside the knee.

  It was a brutal first blow and Shane instantly fell to the mat, clutching his leg and groaning.

  Daryl delivered a fast heel kick to the other knee and leaned down to grab Shane’s hair as he tried to roll away.

  Daryl loved to set up the hits before he gave them, but it backfired, giving Shane time to recover. He slammed one fist into Daryl’s ribs and the other into his cheek.

  Thud!

  Daryl landed on the mat, blood running from his jaw.

  When he pushed himself up, Shane had the dog tags and was set to dart by.

  Daryl spun into an extended punch and knocked Shane back into the far corner of the cage. The dog tags flew from his hand, sliding under the bars.

  As Daryl moved determinedly toward the dazed man, all of those watching began to understand this wasn’t about the pass or fail of a test. It was personal.

  “Do you know everything?” Daryl growled.

  Shane shook his head, trying to stand up. “No, I–”

  “But you act like it.” Daryl accused, delaying the physical blows for emotional ones. “Safe Haven has enough leaders. You’re one of the crew. You got that?”

  Understanding, and then embarrassment, fell into Shane’s face. “Go to hell!”

  Daryl rushed in and punched him in the mouth.

  Shane clutched the wire to stay on his feet. As he gained his balance and looked up, Daryl swung again.

  Wham!

  Shane fell, hands missing the bars, and he dropped heavily to his ass.

  “You get it now?” Daryl grunted.

  “No!” Shane didn’t try to stand up. “You can’t break me!”

  The XO moved forward.

  Thud!

  The crowd didn’t like it, not the camp or the Eagles, but no one interfered. Shane really was an insufferable know-it-all.

  “Please! Stop now.”

  Daryl stepped back as Shane’s hand came up in defense, glad to be able to. If he had to go much further, it might hurt his own place. “Do you know everything, rookie?”

  “I didn’t know this was coming.” Shane glowered through the bruises and blood.

  He glared in Marc’s direction and got a look in return that said he should have.

  “You have a team. Act like it or lose it,” Daryl warned. He stepped out of the cage and moved to Adrian.

  “Fail. Who’s next?” Adrian was clearly supporting Marc’s choice to have Shane handled this way.

  Now Marc’s team moved forward slower, not sure if they were in for what Shane had just gotten. All of them had flaws–they were men.

  It would have surprised these nervous Eagles to know that the females in the front row were thinking the same thing. It wasn’t only the men who knew and feared their shortcomings.

  “I’m up,” Marc called in satisfaction.

  Silence fell as Greg moved into the cage.

  Adrian waited until the two men were set and then said, “I have an adjustment to this test.”

  Marc waited calmly. The only one in camp who might be able to give him a hard fight was Adrian himself.

  “Some people in my army have backgrounds that give them the advantage here. That ends now.”

  Adrian motioned Kenn toward the cage, and the crowd chattered eagerly. Eagles began to place bets.

  When Adrian also motioned Neil that way, the crowd slowly quieted. He was kidding, right?

  Standing nearby, Angela turned to glare at Adrian. He didn’t look at her.

  “Ready?”

  Marc had gone into kill-mode the second Kenn moved toward the cage. Seeing the best kai man in camp join Kenn made the wolfman disappear and the Marine emerge for the camp’s view for the first time. He could lose this one, but it wouldn’t be a quick beating. He wouldn’t stand for that.

  Marc grinned. “That all you got?”

  Adrian obligingly motioned a third man forward.

  Marc cursed his mouth as Seth came through the surprised, uneasy crowd. Shit!

  “What the hell are you doing?” Angela hissed angrily. Someone could get hurt.

  “I’m putting his back against the wall so that he’ll give me what I need,” Adrian answered curtly. “Exactly what he just had me to do Shane.”

  Angela already knew that Marc’s pride wouldn’t let him back down, and she clamped her lips shut to keep from protesting further. Adrian had better be careful. Once that tiger was out of the cage, it might be awfully hard to get him back inside of it.

  Adrian tossed his tags into the corner and the defenders took up shoulder-to-shoulder places in front of them. Marc would have to disable all four men to pass.

  Marc turned to look at Adrian, starting to understand what the blond wanted. He didn’t have time to figure out why as Adrian hit the stopwatch.

  “Seven minute limit. Go!”

  Marc ran straight at them.

  The four men drew back to swing, but Marc jumped at the last second, throwing himself to the right in a leaping lunge that gained him the side of the cage.

  He quickly scrambled along the bars and leapt into the back corner over Seth’s reacting shoulder. The swipe missed, sending the redhead sprawling.

  Marc had the tags in hand in the first ten seconds, without a single blow taken. He slid them over his neck without a grin, though. He’d lost the advantage and the four men trapping him weren’t just playing defense.

  Marc took out the most dangerous first. He lunged forward to hit Kenn in the jaw so hard that his arm clenched in a spasm from the recoil.
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  Kenn dropped like a bag of bricks, and then the other three were moving in and Marc had no choice but to react as the situation deserved.

  A sidekick to the ribs took Greg to his knees.

  A fast kidney punch sent Neil stumbling back to trip over Kenn’s big body.

  Seth knocked Marc against the side of the cage.

  Marc ducked the next swing and caught the undercover cop in a bear hug, forcing him back. He dropped the man and did a half-spin, sending his balled up knee into Seth’s stomach.

  The man gasped for air, sliding down.

  Marc felt a blow coming and threw up a hand to deflect Greg’s temple shot.

  It glanced off, unbalancing them both.

  Marc sprawled against the cage, an open target for Neil’s hit. Blood flew again.

  Fists rained down, the grunts and groans echoing across an unhappy crowd. No one like seeing the wolfman treated this way.

  They didn’t understand, but Adrian was confident in his plan. Marc wouldn’t take much more before he got mean. Once that happened, another part of the dream would be safe. Marc was a strong hand for any leader to have, one that would be followed if his strength were known. After this, it would be.

  Marc felt that dangerous side of him fighting to come out and tried to prevent it. He didn’t want to hurt–

  Thud!

  Greg’s blow rocked Marc’s head against the cage. Blood splattered.

  Kick!

  Neil’s spin sent pain flaring into Marc’s arm as he blocked it. If they didn’t back off, he wouldn’t be able to–

  Wham!

  Seth delivered the line-crossing hit with a brutal chest shot.

  Marc struggled to find air, fists clenching… But he’d been pushed too hard. Ice flooded his veins, and his heart thumped in that familiar, nauseating rhythm of death.

  The inner Marine stepped forward. May I?

  Marc grunted at the next blow, no longer bothering to block. Yes. Give him what he wants and then some.

  One of Marc’s long-hidden demons snapped a mental salute and took full control.

  “You have to stop it now!” Angela whispered frantically. “He’ll kill them!”

  Adrian wasn’t about to interfere. “He still has three minutes.”

  Marc didn’t need them.

  They watched him lunge forward and deliver a nasty hit to Seth’s windpipe. As the cop fell, face reddening, going darker from lack of air, Marc swung again.

  Thud!

  Neil slid to his knees at the forehead blow, not knocked out, but on the edge of it. His vision warbled sickeningly as he fought to stay alert.

  Greg tripped over Kenn’s body as Marc turned toward him, hoping to avoid it, but Marc was there to help him with an uppercut swung from the hip.

  Greg joined the others–groaning, trying to recover, and clearly out of the match.

  Three hits, three men down.

  Marc stalked toward the cage door.

  Except for breathing, silence echoed eerily across the crowd.

  Behind Marc, Seth’s gasps came in choked whispers, but at least he was getting air. He didn’t care that his eyes were streaming tears or that his throat felt like it had been caught in a pepper-grinder. It was just good to breathe at all.

  John waited until Marc was clear of the cage before hurrying inside with Anne on his heels.

  The crowd wasn’t sure how to react as Marc moved toward Adrian with bloody fist and furious eyes. The Eagles were, though. Those closest rushed toward the two men.

  Marc stopped with plenty of distance between them. “Are you satisfied now?”

  “Yes.” Adrian’s tone was neutral. “Are you?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Good.” Adrian had expected it. “You’ll oversee the rest of the cage matches. Who’s next?”

  Angela didn’t think it would work. That was her Brady, and his need to see Adrian bleeding was strong.

  “Fine,” Marc agreed, turning back toward the cage. “But you’ll have to send in tomorrow’s men, too. The few left on my team won’t be enough to cool me down.”

  “Agreed. Pass. Who’s next?”

  Tension broken, the crowd began to cheer, and the Eagles joined them–those who weren’t busy helping their fallen men or comforting suddenly terrified rookie females.

  Now, Marc’s team absolutely dragged their feet, shooting each other worried glances. There were four of them left and no one was surprised when they all went together. Marc’s reputation had just grown.

  5

  Angela waited until the tests were finished and the camp had gone. Only a few of the Eagles were left, the training tent now back up around them. Marc was filling out paperwork, collecting old patches, setting up the next duty shifts, and all the while, his eyes flamed. He’d won the remaining matches. It made for slightly upset teammates who could now miss the next level with even one mistake during tomorrow night’s shooting test, but it also made for a calm camp that was secure in their defenders. Jax had been the only one to even get a hit on Marc, and Angela frowned at the injuries. She wasn’t allowed to heal him, but she wanted to.

  Angela saw the last Eagle duck out of the tent and moved toward Marc, feeling his tension, his anger and triumph. Both were on his mind, but the need to kill hadn’t been satisfied.

  “I’m fine.”

  His coldness stopped her from touching him, the fear she still held of men rearing up. It would be nothing for Marc to hurt her, she knew that now. All the shots she’d ever gotten in on him were nothing compared to a single blow from his fist.

  “I would never do that.”

  Angela relaxed her stiff body language in guilty surprise. He was so much more observant this way. Not that he’d slacked off before, but now, without even looking at her, he knew she was scared.

  “It takes a little time to cool down,” Marc tried to explain, still fighting the occasional shudder of rage.

  Angela wanted to comfort, but seeing him tonight had sent her into places she’d hoped not to visit again.

  “Angie?”

  It was odd, to be so full of courage one minute and lacking a spine the next. She found her tongue. “I’ll be in the...our tent.”

  Angela forgot the golden rule, spinning for the flap.

  Instinct triggered by the movement, Marc lunged and Angela found herself in his big arms before she could suck in the air to shout with.

  Marc held her tightly against him, scenting her. He’d never wanted anything more.

  The fear in her face and those beautiful eyes brought him back, and Marc slowly lowered her feet to the ground. He gently adjusted her sweater over her rigid shoulder. “Give me a few.”

  Angela was having a battle of her own. She could fight, shoot, think, run, but when it came to men... “I’ll wait with you.”

  Marc wasn’t back in control yet and shook his head. “We’ll end up doing a repeat of Nebraska, baby cakes.”

  Those flaming eyes dropped to her chest. “Or more.”

  Angela swallowed. Was she ready for it?

  “No.”

  Marc’s tone forbade a moment like that out of sympathy or duty, and she understood. That wouldn’t be enough for her, either, if the situation were reversed.

  Marc’s hot eyes never left her face. What he wouldn’t give to be allowed to take her!

  Catching the thought, Angela trembled, but not all from fear. If she knew that their moment in Nebraska was all that they would repeat, she wasn’t against it. The revelation was enough to make her smile.

  Marc stared at the mouth he craved, dreamed about. Some night he would kiss those lips as he slid into her warm, willing body.

  Marc shuddered. “You. Go. Now.”

  Angela chuckled at the wording, but Marc wasn’t kidding. “Angie.”

  She looked up, face a mix of courage and terror. “Some fears should be conquered head-on.”

  Marc hadn’t expected that, but realized he should have. Hadn’t she handled every chal
lenge that way? Marc’s eyes went over her lips again, wanting to kiss her, to go on and give her what she was asking for. “It’s too soon.”

  He watched his hand go out to touch her anyway. She kept that long hair up now, usually in a thick ponytail, and she had no idea how sexy she looked with it that way. It exposed a nape that he longed to stroke, to taste.

  Desire, thick and welcome, flooded Angela as he traced her cheek and slid his warm hand along her jaw.

  Angela tried to relax. “Why not tell me what you had in mind, and I’ll make the choice?”

  Lust–to feel her in the throes of a pleasure he’d delivered–swept through Marc. “Better to show you.”

  “Clothes?” she asked nervously.

  Marc tightened his control at the images that sent flipping through his mind. “On.”

  Scared, Angela started to shake her head, and Marc’s heart protested. He leaned in and kissed her.

  Angela was immediately caught in flashes of the past, of their stolen moments together. Things hadn’t begun crossing the line until she was older, but this heat, this magic between them, had always been there.

  Heavy with need, Marc deepened the kiss, and felt her arms go around his neck. His body responded instantly, thrusting against her.

  Angela was helpless to keep from arching back.

  Marc paused for an instant. He hadn’t thought she was ready for more, but that one little reaction said differently. The Marine inside wouldn’t let him stop after that realization.

  Marc kissed her again, softer, but more intently this time as he searched for her pleasure triggers. Some men rushed through these moments for that quick, fleeting satisfaction, but not Marc. He enjoyed a woman–all of her–and learning what she liked always increased his own satisfaction. Women’s libbers might have called it pride, or an ego-fix, but Marc was determined that what his woman got out of it would always be good enough to keep her coming back.

  “Okay.” Marc’s timbre lowered into that deep rumble that stunned the camp’s women when he used it against them. “I want to do what we did the first night we snuck out to the clubhouse.”

  Angela was a bit dazed by how much desire he was pulling with only a few words and a kiss. Was it intentional?

  “Yes.” Marc stared at her in blatant want. “Lean against the wall, close your eyes.”