by Angela White
The big man laughed as he stepped over them and out of the ring.
Doug had spotted Marc when they emerged from the trees and he came toward them now, frowning darkly. Why would O’Neil bring him here?
“Come by for a lesson?”
Thunder cracked in the distance, as if in response to the menace in Doug’s voice.
Neil shook his head, surprised. “I’m showing the newbie around. Marc, this is Doug, unofficial fifth in command. Doug, this is Marc Brady. He came in yesterday.”
“Yeah, with Kenn’s wife.” This had to be the man who’d hit her. Doug still couldn’t accept that Kenn would do such a thing.
“Her name is Angela, and she’s not his wife,” Marc corrected.
The two men shook hands and Doug lit up when Marc didn’t flinch or pull away from the harsh grip. “You may not need a lesson, Neil, but your friend does.”
The words were angry, and Neil shook his head again, aware of the sudden tension and the five men witnessing. Even those who were injured didn’t want to miss what might happen.
“New people get a few days to settle in, you know that.”
Doug smirked. “Yeah. The boss don’t wanna scare off the new sheep.” Sarcastic, Doug gave Marc a glare. “I think home-wreckers shouldn’t be allowed here!”
There were murmurs of agreement from the others, but Neil was shocked at such hostility from the war vet, who was usually hard to rile. He and Doug were friends, and Neil wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.
Marc was. His first encounter with Safe Haven’s people had been bad. Why should this one be any different? It was what he would spend the coming days and weeks doing–proving himself.
“What are the rules?” Marc asked, stepping forward suddenly so that the big man was forced to retreat a step.
Doug’s anticipation faltered a bit as he noticed the dog tag and recon emblem on Marc’s arm as he unstrapped his guns. The new guy was a Marine.
“Rules?” Marc insisted. He was suddenly eager.
“It’s normally over when someone bleeds, but for you, Jody, it’s done when you agree to leave Kenn’s bitch alone and get out!” Doug sent forcefully.
“Deal.”
Lightning flashed, closer this time, and Marc handed his weapons to a protesting Neil.
The cop was worried at the hard looks the two men were exchanging. Hadn’t Marc heard him say only men with a death wish or something to prove…?
Neil snapped his mouth shut, almost certain Marc was in over his head.
“And when I win?” Marc asked, getting into the ring.
Doug snorted, trying to pretend Marc’s lack of hesitation didn’t bother him. Only one guy here had that kind of sand: Adrian, who had been able to bring him down. Even Kenn had been leery. “Don’t worry about that, wife-stealer.”
Marc’s fury was a hard pit of ice as he swept his opponent. He evaluated, chose, got set as Doug joined him.
“Get ready, boy.” Doug taunted.
Marc felt his streak of violence.
Doug’s confidence faltered as Marc’s countenance filled with the need for blood, but it was too late to withdraw the challenge. The big man lunged forward, making Marc jump out of his reach.
Doug laughed. “Leave now. Last chance.”
Vaguely aware of rain sprinkles evaporating on his hot skin, Marc’s response was calculated.
“You talk a lotta shit. Where’s the action?”
Doug’s advance was fast, but Marc jerked his fist up as he sidestepped, catching Doug’s nose. He leaned his weight into it, but didn’t give the final, killing shove as he wanted to.
Marc felt the bone give way under his hand as the Irishman’s heavy hit glanced off his wounded shoulder with a painful thud.
Blood sprayed, and Doug dropped heavily to his knees. Cradling his bleeding nose with his hands, he struggled not to cry out again or puke from the pain.
Marc leaned close, and Doug flinched back, unable to stop from moaning.
“Don’t ever talk about her that way! You don’t know her, and he’s not worth your loyalty!” Marc straightened up. “He doesn’t own her. She’ll make her own choices.”
He stepped out of the ring, and Neil was there to hand him his guns as the others gathered around Doug in surprised concern.
Marc lit a smoke as he waited for someone to throw him out or call Adrian.
“Wow!” Neil was beyond pleased. Even Adrian had taken a vicious hit and had to use both fists to win.
The state trooper let out a cheer that the other men wanted to echo, but didn’t out of respect for Doug. That kind of skill was admired here.
“Did you break his nose?”
Marc was relieved, but still pissed. “Probably. Angie can tell him for sure. Unless she finds out what he said, and then she might add to it.”
Thunder boomed, the storm missing them as it raced by, and Neil snorted. “You sure aren’t what you seem.”
“Neither is she. I hope she isn’t being treated to this kind of welcome,” Marc vented. “She doesn’t deserve it.”
“Adrian won’t allow it here among the females, but until she makes a public choice…” Neil let the words trail off.
“Until she chooses, they’ll try to get me to leave.”
Neil was sympathetic. He liked Marc. “It’s a very close group here, and most people like Kenn almost as much as they do Adrian. They view you as a threat to the only security they’ve had since before the war.”
“All I want is her happiness. No matter who she’s with.”
“People will realize that.”
Marc hoped he was right, the anger slowly fading into frustration. One thing was for sure: it was all going to be as hard as he’d thought.
Neil turned to the men who had been helping a dazed and bleeding Doug to his feet while listening and not pretending otherwise. “Two of you get him to John, and the rest of you finish setting up. People will start arriving soon. Alex, you’re in charge.”
Neil raised a brow at Marc, knowing this story would spread like wildfire. “Ready?”
As they walked through the woods, Neil made a mental note to tell Adrian in his nightly report that the man should be considered deadly with his hands. It was a classification only five men here had, and Marc had just dropped one of those with a single hit.
“I’m gonna ask a dumb question now,” Marc warned.
“Shoot.”
“How do so many people know so much? I was in quarantine, and I know she isn’t saying anything, so how do they know?”
“Kenn,” Neil explained. “His behavior changed, says something’s different, that he’s unhappy–and of course, there’s his mouth.”
“Damn. He sure didn’t waste any time.”
“Can’t blame him. I’d put up a fight too.”
“She’s even prettier on the inside.” Marc raised a brow. “So, what’s next?”
“Single women and guns,” Neil supplied.
“Sounds dangerous. I’m in.”
4
They walked a short distance through the trees to a softball field, where about twenty women in jeans sat on bleachers behind the gate. Inside the fenced area, men dressed like police were setting things up on home plate.
They watched as Doug came by, being helped to the medical tent.
“Come on. We’ll see Billy. He’s running the class this week, and then I want a seat next to little Becky,” Neil stated with a leer. “Her smell drives me nuts.”
Marc chuckled, matching Neil’s confident stride.
The men (off-duty sentries?) were putting up targets and sharing smirks, but they kept their attention on each other and not the females. Except…they are making subtle eye contact, he noticed, quickly understanding that Adrian picked “nice” guys to teach this class. Probably everyone wanted to do it because all the students were women and, Marc was guessing, single. No need of a dating service here.
Even the setting was ideal. Towering mountains and thic
k green forests surrounded Safe Haven, and Marc realized it was that way through the entire camp. Not one remnant of the war was visible. He understood it was likely intentional, but he didn’t agree. The truth was always better. Right?
“Hey, O’Neil! Who’s your friend?”
The question came from a cute teenager with a firm, young body, but the trooper only threw a smile over his shoulder and kept walking. “We’ll stop by.”
She nodded easily and went back to her conversation with the others near her, but Marc could feel her keeping track of them. They headed toward the ponytailed man (Billy?) he had briefly met at the creek, and Marc wondered if Neil knew how badly the teenage girl wanted his attention.
“Hey, Billy, got time for a Level test?”
“Sure…” The Eagle grinned. “Yours?”
Neil snorted at the joke. “Funny. This is Marc Brady. You guys met this morning.”
Their handshake was short, civil, and Marc waited as the guard scanned him from hair to boots before looking to the trooper at his side.
“What Level?”
Neil considered, letting Doug’s injury influence him a little. He had planned on a two. “Level Four.”
There were murmurs at that from the women close enough to hear. Six was the highest they had so far.
“You got it. Come on over here. Marc, right?”
They hadn’t spoken at all earlier. Everyone had been too busy witnessing the wolf corner Danny and his friends.
“Yes.” Brady followed casually, not sure what to expect as they stepped over to a small stack of hay bales that were neatly lined with guns, ammo, hand wipes, and a first aid kit. Smart, organized…it made him uneasy.
“First, take your gun apart as fast–”
Marc was already moving, hands almost a blur. Seconds later, he slapped the magazine in and handed it over, butt first, for inspection.
Billy hit the timer. “New record, though it won’t make the books without enough witnesses. Pass.”
Billy handed Neil a black handkerchief, very curious. Had Marc done that to Doug? He and Neil had come from that direction.
“We do one simple shooting test for each Level. You have thirty seconds to hit as many bull’s-eyes as you can, blind of course. Seven or more to pass to Level Four, but a bulls-eye in the farthest target is an automatic go.”
Marc lined himself up with the roller-bound boards and motioned for Neil to tie the blindfold.
In his element if only for this moment, Marc fired once from where he stood and gave his gun a single twirl, unable to resist. He could have made it from twice that distance with only a brief glance.
“Bull’s-eye! Farthest target!”
The women cheered loudly, clearly taking an interest in the new man.
Marc reloaded and holstered in smooth movements that drew more respect.
“Man, Kenn’s gonna hate you being here,” Billy observed, snickering. “Nice. Pass. Give him his paperwork, Neil.”
Billy peered at the sheet on his clipboard. “All right. Class has started. Samantha Moore, please. Adrian said you go first every day until you can hit seven of nine targets with one magazine.”
Neil was all smiles as Marc joined him, and they stayed on the bottom row of the sturdy bleachers as the tall, skinny blonde moved toward the targets. She barely resembled the woman who had stumbled from a mostly dead horse and asked them for a gun. She had cleaned up nicely.
Great eyes, Neil thought. Not like Angela’s, which changed color, but still strong and attractive.
“Hey, Neil. Where ya been? Me and the girls looked for you at breakfast.”
Becky drew Neil’s attention back to her, marking the new blonde woman as an enemy.
Neil reddened, and waved a hand at Marc as the women whispered and giggled. “I’ve been showing the new guy around.”
There were ten of them, all between thirty and forty-five except for little Becky. They wore tight jeans, hair bows, and flowery perfumes that made it clear the women knew this was a matchup class. They had come prepared to snag a man, and in Marc’s book, that made it time to go.
“This is Marc Brady. He has trouble making friends. Anything we can do about that?”
Neil ignored Marc’s embarrassed protesting.
Becky glanced at an older woman that Marc’s mind said would fit perfectly into a Nazi documentary.
“Hilda?”
Becky’s voice was respectful, and Neil gave Marc a nudge. “Stop glowering,” he hissed, struggling not to ogle the bare thigh of the teenager in cutoffs next to him. Like the rest of the people, she was enjoying the warmer weather, and the sight of bare flesh was an instant draw in this camp.
Everyone was quiet, waiting for the pale woman to speak. She reminded Marc of Dog as she scanned him.
That deeply evaluating look is going to wear thin, Marc thought.
“Is he useful?” Hilda paused, cracking a toothless grin. “Single?”
Neil was glad he’d thought to include her as everyone snickered. The old woman didn’t have any official authority, but when the better cook had come, Adrian had made Hilda a sort of den mother to the new women. Those she had helped now followed her lead and if he hadn’t included her, she could have caused trouble. Neil knew she wouldn’t have, though. She was a Kenn-hater and not quiet about it. With her support, Marc would have a better chance at winning over the rest of the people. Keeping the females happy was a priority in Safe Haven.
“He’ll be one of Adrian’s, I’d wager, and he keeps company with a wild wolf. As for the single part…” Neil shrugged. “That’s undecided, I think.”
“Then it’s true. He lusts for Kenn’s wife.”
Neil held up a hand, dismissing Marc’s anger. “They aren’t married. Kenn lied. Marc loves Angie, Hilda, and you know we don’t get to choose that.” Neil’s gaze flicked to Becky and back. “It chooses us.”
Hilda’s countenance was hard. “You speak truth, but if they are already sleeping together–”
“That’s none of your business!” Marc broke in hotly. “What the hell gives you people the right to …”
He stopped at Neil’s expression of horror.
Most of the women were disappointed, sure he had blown it, but the den mother only waved a hand. “Must be love. Too tense to have gotten laid.”
Marc’s mouth dropped open as surprised laughter rang out, and he was unable to keep from chuckling. He saw that many of the females around the old woman were subtly offering to help him with that problem, and he looked away, cheeks scarlet.
Hilda turned to Neil. “The females will not follow Kenn’s lead on this. The man will be judged by his actions here.”
“Thank you. Anything I should tell the boss?” Neil asked instinctively.
Hilda gave Brady another once-over. “Tell our guardian to search again. He is not seeing the true value.” The woman raised her voice to include the guards, who had come closer to listen. “Now, when does this class end? Accidentally shot Kenn’s tire, my ass! Making me do this again is cruel and unusual punishment!”
“For the men running it,” Neil joked, making them laugh again. He leaned toward Marc as the women chattered and stared. “We’re done here unless you want to stay for the show. Probably be funny. She’s in good form today.”
Marc shrugged, still uncomfortable. “You’re my agent. It’s your call.”
Neil didn’t deny it. “We’ll go. She doesn’t need a bigger audience to play for.”
Marc noted the satisfied glint in the old woman’s expression as they stood up, and knew instinctively that he had pleased her. Because she saw Kenn for what he was and was glad someone had finally come who could give him a run for his money?
Marc sighed, nodding a polite goodbye. It doesn’t matter, he thought, watching Becky–still facing Hilda–hold a hand behind her back and pass Neil a small note that he betrayed no sign of receiving. Ah. So that’s how it is.
“It’s been a pleasure, ladies. We’ll see you at the c
ontest?”
There were promises and more giggles at Neil’s question. Marc was glad when they were out of sight of the hot, female stares that were burning holes into him. Angie wouldn’t like this.
“That was fun.” He grinned suddenly, wondering if she would be jealous, but Neil only heard the sarcasm.
“You’ll learn to use things to your advantage too, but first, you need a foundation here, and roots only come from one of three ways. Adrian’s attention is the quickest. Working hard and fitting in are good, but slow. The last option is FND. Foot-in-the-door. Add the women’s approval to any of them, and it’s an almost indestructible place.”
Marc was a little confused and thought again that it didn’t matter, since he wasn’t staying. He had no problem with what Neil was trying to do, though, and was glad he had a friend in the guard, who clearly had pull here.
“The parking area is next. I need to find out if Kenn got the other refer truck running. Adrian plans to butcher today, so we need to get a rig ready.”
They neared the area quickly, and Marc hated to admit that he was a bit nervous as the lake of vehicles came into sight. He wasn’t afraid of Kenn, but with the exception of a few, these were definitely Kenn’s people. Everything that had happened so far confirmed it, and the fighter inside didn’t like not knowing what to expect.
The wide area was filled with rusty, dusty, older, and mostly American-made steel. Almost every driver door sported a flag, some cars covered in red-white-and-blue, and it gave the area a feeling of sad honor. It took only a second for Marc to understand that the vehicles, big and small, dented and pristine, were not randomly parked. Some were being shielded, and again, Marc was impressed. It was hard to steal or destroy what you didn’t know was there.
He drew in a steadying breath as they neared the group of eight men standing around the front end of a faded-blue semi with an open hood–all smoking, talking quietly around the two men sitting half inside the engine compartment.
“Hey, guys. Any luck yet?”
Knowing anything he had to offer wasn’t welcome, Marc hung back as heads spun at Neil’s call.
Cold attitudes appraised him. Kenn was one of the men under the truck’s greasy hood, and the mood was already aggravated.