by Angela White
Samantha smirked, sliding into the passenger seat of his sporty white Jeepster. If he really thought that would keep her in line, he was crazy.
Jeremy felt the sense of dread he’d experienced at the rest stop and made a quick choice that she would hate. He didn’t want to deny Sam the opportunity to feel like an Eagle, but this was a gunfight and she wasn’t ready.
Samantha didn’t speak until the battle scene came into view, heart thumping at the sight of the armed jeeps and trucks circling the pinned-down team at the entrance to the boarding school.
“What should I do?” she asked as Seth drove behind a tall brick wall that lined a gated community.
Jeremy stopped well behind Seth’s team, killing the engine. “Stay here.”
Sam scowled, shaking her head. “I’m good with a gun. I can–”
“No time to argue, baby.” Jeremy grabbed her wrist with one hand and his cuffs with the other.
“Hey! No, don’t!”
Jeremy snapped the metal into place and shoved it over the steering wheel before she recovered from the surprise.
Click!
“You son of a...”
Jeremy quickly got out of range of her fury, barely missing being kicked in the balls.
“I’ll make you pay for this!” Samantha snarled. She was so pissed, she was crying.
Jeremy slammed the door in her face and went to join Seth’s team. They would hit hard and quick, and he wouldn’t worry about Samantha.
The second the door closed, Samantha began digging in her pocket with her free hand. After being held this way by Rick while he hurt Becky, she’d sworn she would never be in this position again.
Sam clutched the hairpin in a tight grip and started working it around in the hole.
Gunfire echoed loudly as she struggled, hard, flat pops of death.
9
Seth waved everyone forward, gun in hand. This was the best part of his new life. Not the action or the rush, but the legal killing.
“Fire!”
Seth’s hoarse order was echoed loudly by his XO. “Fire!”
Jeff did as he’d bid their men, his careful aim already locked onto the circling jeep with the machine gun. The grenade launcher lurched, belching out a perfect shot.
The first jeep exploded in a splintering ball of flame and smoke, and Jeff switched his aim to the closest truck.
Kablamm!
The other jeep of traders rolled their way, and Neil’s men were able to fire at it now that they were no longer pinned down by the machine gun’s rapid shots.
Seth’s men fell into that dangerous V as Neil’s team did the same. Watching their line of fire, two full teams of Eagles emptied their guns into the remaining vehicles from both sides.
It was over soon after the call for assistance came. One Eagle team was dangerous. Two was lethal.
“Where are the hostages?” Seth asked, reloading as Jeff and Shawn moved through the bodies. He normally would have had a lot more to say, but it hurt to talk. The quarter-shaped blood bruise on his windpipe was a constant reminder to everyone who saw it–Marc wasn’t to be challenged without a death wish. He’d taken that slot from Doug.
“Back of the transport truck. Greg’s working on the door,” Neil answered.
Seth went to help.
Neil did a quick sweep, hating the openness of this area, but also grateful for it. With a little more cover, the traders might have been more successful with their ambush.
When their other men hadn’t come back, these few had assumed them to be dead and packed up. If Neil’s team had come an hour later, they would have been gone.
Neil saw Jeremy gathering guns and ammo. “What’s the count?”
Jeremy shrugged, shoving guns into a burlap sack. “About fifteen usable. No ammo other than what we might pull from the machine guns.”
Neil nodded. “Water run go okay?”
Jeremy stood up, leaving the bag for when they loaded it all up. “We’ll be off rations by morning.”
Neil grinned. “Guess Samantha didn’t like not being allowed to come along. She’s with the water, right?”
Jeremy didn’t answer.
The silence made Neil frown. “Right?”
Jeremy shook his head, voice casual. “No, she’s uh, handcuffed to the steering wheel of my jeep.”
Jeremy pointed to the barely visible Hurst edition. It was too far away to see her shadow, but waves of anger hit them clearly.
Neil stared. “You are in deep shit, my friend.”
“Nah,” Jeremy smiled uneasily, looking at the fist-shaped bruise in the center of Neil’s forehead. “She’ll yell for a minute and then realize I didn’t have a choice.”
Neil’s brow went up. “Do you think so?”
“Well, maybe.” Jeremy became defensive. “She refused to stay in the jeep!”
“Did you think she would?” Neil scoffed, motioning for Greg to load up and get rolling as soon as possible.
“No, that’s why I cuffed her.”
“So, it was premeditated. Another mark against you,” Neil stated, walking that way. He wasn’t sure there would still be a steering wheel when they got there, but he didn’t tell Jeremy that.
“It’s rare, right?” Neil asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Jeremy nodded, grinning. “I’ve wanted one since I was ten. They only made about a hundred of them. Even found a way to modify it for my cd player.”
“Uh-huh.” Neil was still staring at the jeep, almost convinced he’d seen a glint of movement–shiny movement. “And she knows that, right?”
Jeremy nodded again, chuckling. “Yeah, she said I might be in love with it instead of...” Jeremy got the point all at once. “She wouldn’t!”
Neil clapped his XO on the shoulder. “Did you tell her it even has the original T-handle shifter?”
Jeremy’s third nod was the slow motion of impending doom. He’d told everyone who would listen and even a few who wouldn’t. “Yes.”
Neil got them moving, trying to be sympathetic. “Vehicles aren’t as important to women. Maybe she won’t remember.”
10
Crash!
That sound had the two men running.
Crash!
Neil rounded the edge of the wall first and came to a screeching halt as he took in the situation.
The jeep looked like it had been in the center of their battlefield. All but two of the windows were sporting large, jagged holes in the centers and glass shards littered the ground all around the jeep. The hood glinted as if it was covered in diamonds and on the ground in front of the Jeepster, was a broken T-handled shifter.
“Uh, I think she remembered,” Neil choked out, trying not to snicker.
Crash!
A thick boot heel shot through the passenger wing window, leaving only the back glass intact as a fresh rainbow of shards scattered.
“Shit.” Jeremy sounded like he’d been punched. “Maybe she can’t twist enough to–”
Thud! Thud! Crash!
Jeremy grunted in shock. “My jeep!”
Neil clapped him on the shoulder again. “She’s out of windows. I wouldn’t leave her cuffed much longer or that radio you might lose that CD–”
Grind...rippp!
The radio came flying through the boot-hole in the windshield, catching more glass and sending debris to the ground.
“Oh. Too late.” Laughing, Neil turned back toward the boarding school, where the teams were set to roll. “Let me know how it goes.”
Jeremy stared at the furious blue eyes glowering through the damage, warning him that she wasn’t satisfied yet. “Coward.”
“Yep.” Neil chuckled. “Gotta tell ya. I’d rather face that machine gun again. Good luck.”
Riippppp!
Jeremy watched a brand new sun visor join the radio. Why had he thought Samantha needed protecting? They could have turned her loose on the traders and saved the grenades.
Jeremy moved closer, carefully.
“Hey, Samantha.”
He grimaced before he said it. “Are you still mad?”
Thud! Craaccckkk!
The steering wheel, wires flapping, landed at his feet.
“Uh. Yeah, okay. I understand.” Jeremy held up the keys to the cuffs. “If I let you out, will you be nice?”
He winced at the next sounds that came from his cherished jeep. He had spent weeks modifying it and if he had to guess, he’d say that was the glovebox and the cup holders.
Plastic shards flew at him, unidentifiable, and Jeremy took a step back. “How about if I throw you the keys and run?”
Silence.
“Sam? I’m gonna let you out now, okay?”
The dented driver’s door slowly crunched open, grinding from glass and plastic caught in the frame.
Jeremy watched Samantha slowly stand up and then get out on her own. She isn’t cuffed! Shit!
Sam snarled as she stepped around the door, a wild mess still aiming for the deserving target. She drew back, baring her teeth.
Jeremy turned in time to avoid the heavy metal cigarette lighter. It was the rear view mirror that smacked him in the back of the head.
Samantha grunted in satisfaction as he hit his knees, not caring that Neil and Seth’s team were stopped nearby, laughing uncontrollably. She threw the flashlight without remorse, striking his shoulder hard enough to shatter it.
Jeremy scrambled toward the safety of Neil’s truck as batteries started flying.
Samantha missed with all of them–he was zig-zagging to avoid her aim.
As he ducked into the safety of Neil’s backseat, Sam held up the keys to the wounded Jeepster.
Instead of the throw they all expected, Sam dropped the keys just behind her and took up a familiar cage stance. It said come get them, coward.
Jeremy thought about it. Those keys opened any number of toolboxes and devices, and he would definitely enjoy rolling around on the ground with Samantha. But...
Jeremy wiped the blood off his ear and held it up for her to see through the window, shaking his head. “You play too rough.”
Samantha laughed, calming down now that she’d had a release. She scooped up the keys and gave them a shake. Then she slid them into the front of her shirt where they poked her. “When you want ‘em, you know where they are.”
She walked by the truck to take a backseat in Seth’s truck, and the Eagles watching burst into another round of crude laughs and taunts.
Jeremy stared at Jeepster as the others got in. My baby!
“I guess you know not to do that again,” Neil said.
“Yeah.” Jeremy took the napkins Neil held out and began wiping away the blood. “There were some signs.”
Neil chuckled, motioning for Greg to get them moving. “Head for the rendezvous point. We’re done here.”
The four teams met up under a green sunset that didn’t dampen their mood. They’d gotten all the list items and a few others. The kids they’d rescued were between the ages of five and twelve, and Jeremy thought Adrian would put them with the slaver children, sensing the bonds that might grow between the two abused groups. The adult females they’d also hoped to help, were dead. They’d found the graves and corpses upon exploring the school grounds. The boss wouldn’t be told that part.
Adrian would be pleased by their successes, and that meant a good time at the second half of the tests that would take place just after mess.
It took half an hour to get back to camp, where they unloaded, sorted, and cleaned up. It had been a long day for these refugees and they were ready for the quiet drama of camp life.
11
On her way to watch the tests, Samantha paused at the sight of Jeremy coming from the workout tent that Marc and Charlie were entering. Jeremy looked like he’d just– “Grrrr...”
Samantha flushed as her stomach growled. He looked like he’d just come from the bed of a woman who was sore and smiling. Desire pushed into her thoughts, the kind she usually suffered at night or found a distraction for, and Samantha recognized the moment. She’d felt lust before the war and sent out for a stranger like the other females in her class bracket had, but now...
Sam tuned out everything but the man who’d spotted her. Now, she had two sweat-layered, muscle-bulging, gun-packing Eagles at her fingertips, hard killers that would delight in easing her torment. It was going to be harder to resist taking one of them up on what their eyes were always offering.
Jeremy was caught in the heat blast, drawn to her side against his will. He’d concluded that she was likely done with him now, but the open want in that gaze said differently.
Jeremy took a quick minute to ask himself if he wanted to try again, to keep playing the role. It only took a few seconds of her looking at him as if he was hanging on a butcher’s rack to find the answer.
Jeremy gave her an easy grin, but stayed back. “You still pissed about what I did?”
Sam blinked, but the haze didn’t clear. She watched a drop of sweat roll down his neck and trace a fiery path over his shoulder. “No. You?”
“No.” Noticing where she was staring, Jeremy immediately stiffened the muscles in his chest.
Sam’s hands clenched. Think! Keep talking. “Are you sorry for it?”
Swallowing the grin, Jeremy couldn’t lie. “No.”
He was sorry to lose the Jeepster, though. He didn’t tell her that.
Samantha shrugged. At least they had honesty. “Then, I can’t be either. You didn’t understand the lesson, so it wasn’t harsh enough.”
Jeremy didn’t know what to do with a female that used logic instead of emotion. How was he supposed to...logic. Jeremy began running through the signs in his head, those little things that were either putting him off or making him uneasy.
Samantha sensed he was about to open a painful subject and quickly spoke up. “If you do it again, I won’t be able to get over it.”
Jeremy already knew that. He’d gotten the lecture from a number of Eagles, but Cynthia had clued him in first by threatening to cut off his balls if he interfered with the dream again. “I don’t have another Jeep.”
Sam sighed in mock reluctance. Leave it to a man to say the wrong thing. “Guess I’d have to let Cynthia handle you the way she wanted to when she found out.”
Jeremy took a step back. “If you want to kill yourself Sam, you’ll have to do it when I’m not around.”
“Okay.”
Jeremy stared in exasperation. “You get that you’re not ready, right? That we would’ve been busy watching out for you instead of helping Neil?”
“Bet if it had been Angie you would have handled it differently.”
Jeremy spotted the ambush too late. “Yes, but she’s...”
Jeremy snapped his mouth shut as Samantha’s eyes glowed brighter. Mistake!
Instead of blasting him, Sam spoke softly. “I have Adrian’s approval, too. You know that. Treat me like everyone else or stay away from me.”
Jeremy shook his head, heart thumping. “I’ll never be able to do that.”
Sam caught the tremor. “Stay away or treat me the same?”
Jeremy went for the kill now that he’d evaded the trap. He took a step closer, leaned in. “Both.”
Sam stiffened and he pushed, hand going out to brush a wild curl behind her ear.
Samantha shivered as his finger slid along her jaw before dropping. That’s cheating!
“You’re not the same. Stop being ashamed of it.”
Sam wanted to scoff, but he seemed to know what effect he was having on her as he let the sweat drip instead of wiping it away with the thin towel around those big, hard shoulders.
Samantha felt that new heat scorch her insides, and began fighting back. If he still wanted to play, she had his part picked out this time.
Jeremy braced for it, reading the intent as she reached out.
Sam grabbed the ends of the towel, slowly pulling until his mouth was within inches of hers. Tension crackled. She let her lips brush his.
“Will you be
one of my relief sources?”
One of my relief sources. One of. One...
Jeremy was ice in her space an instant later. “No.”
Sam let go, shrugging. “Okay.”
When she turned around as if she’d just finished an unsuccessful interview, Jeremy’s inner asshole broke out. “Whore.”
Samantha stopped and Jeremy got ready to run. Her aim was too good to bother with ducking.
Sam scrolled through a hundred responses before she answered, bitterness supplying the lines faster than she could reject them. She finally chose the one that would keep him awake tonight, worrying if it were true. “I’ll have a stable lined up in a week. You’ll fight alongside them, eat with them, save their lives maybe, and Neil will be first.”
You bitch! Jeremy gave her his second thought instead. “Neil won’t go for this. You’re asking too much.”
“Really?” Samantha’s hand went to her hip, oblivious of their gaping witnesses. “How many guys is Leslie providing comfort for?”
Jeremy shook his head, glaring. “That’s not the same.”
“Okay, then. How many of the older women in camp is Daryl seeing to?”
“They have an arrangement!” he snapped.
“I know,” Sam grunted in exasperation. “So would we, if you could just accept that I have the same rights as everyone else.”
“It’s not that you don’t have the same rights,” Jeremy protested. “It’s that I don’t...”
When he stopped, she filled it in. “Want to share.”
Jeremy nodded, expression pinched. “If I didn’t care, it wouldn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter that you care. That’s your issue to control, not mine.” Samantha twisted it around, as females are so adept at.
“And I don’t think I can,” he confessed angrily. “So go ahead and line up your stable. I won’t be in it.”
Samantha watched him go, understanding he was hurt, but unable to change her nature. Since the war, she needed more to stimulate her, and that was true in so many ways that she wasn’t able to count them all without a scoresheet. If she had to do her old job now, she would never be able to tolerate it. Without the thrills and the close calls, what was the point of being alive?
“I haven’t forgotten, you know.”