LAW Box Set: Books 1-3 (Life After War Book 0)

by Angela White

  Seth repeated the motion, using more force. He took them both! He raped Becky!

  Seth swung again.

  Rick’s head smacked into the wall and he slumped there, barely conscious.

  “You are under arrest for...a lot of shit!” Seth gasped out, slinging blood from his hands so that he could grasp the cuffs on his belt. “You’ll stand trial...and hang!–in the camp you’ve tried so hard to destroy!”

  “No,” Becky stated regretful. “I won’t allow that.”

  “Don’t!” Rick cried.

  Faced with death, evil was filled with fear.

  Becky stepped around Seth and fired.

  Hands up in defense, the bullet plunged through Rick’s wrist and then his throat. Blood immediately gushed from the holes.

  That’s a shot any Eagle would be proud of, Seth thought vaguely, turning to stare at Becky in horror. “What have you done?”

  “She gave us justice!” Samantha answered harshly. Her face was also a swelled mass of bruises.

  In front of Samantha, Kevin was gaping in shock. He didn’t think he was capable of speech.

  Seth looked at the beautiful kill-shot pouring blood, at the dead man slowly slumping to the floor. It’s what Adrian would have had Kyle do after the trial.

  “Okay,” Seth sighed, suddenly feeling cheated out of his vengeance. “Samantha, get her to the truck. Kevin and I will provide an escort straight to John.”

  “No!” Becky shouted. She was naked, bloody and bruised, with Rick’s gun in her hand. “I want to see him burn.”

  They had all heard the story of Angela killing the man in Versailles, but did little Becky realize that burning was a curse to keep the man from gaining any peace in the afterlife? Did it matter?

  Samantha shrugged at Seth’s questioning look. “I have no problem with it.”

  She stepped toward Becky, meaning to cover the girl up.

  Becky recoiled violently, almost tripping over the corner of the soiled bed. “Don’t touch me!”

  Samantha stopped, throwing Seth a worried glance. “Okay.”

  Becky slowly lowered her head and the gun, standing there with no idea what came next. Maybe... Maybe there is no next.

  Picking up on the vibe, Seth held his hand out for the weapon.

  Becky flinched again, but Seth didn’t relent. “You don’t need it. I’ve got your six.”

  Becky stared back, mind scattered. “Yeah, like before?”

  No one moved for a minute at the accusation, and Becky let the gun fall to the carpet. “Stay away. You’ve all done enough.”

  The girl slowly turned toward Rick’s body, furious and empty at the same time. “He meant to leave my body here to destroy Safe Haven.”

  Becky spat at the evil man, suddenly sure she would never be free of him.

  Leaving Seth to deal with it, Kevin gently steered Samantha out of the room, not liking the way she was now staring at Rick’s body. “Come on.”

  Seth heard them leave, but didn’t take his attention away from Becky. She had that ‘on-the-edge’ look that wild animals sometimes got when they were cornered. That was the time they were the most likely to bite, and Seth didn’t fancy any more wounds over Rick. The traitor wasn’t worth it.

  Becky was only vaguely aware of the warm fluids running down her legs, her face, her neck. What she was feeling most clearly, was lost. She wasn’t happy little Becky anymore, and that injury was terrifying. Now, she would only be the girl who got herself raped by the traitor. “They’ll say I deserved it.”

  Seth took his jacket off and carefully placed it around her shoulders. She didn’t react–no violent jump this time–and he casually nudged the gun out of her reach with his boot.

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “No,” Seth answered, hoping Kevin would think to call in to base. “But he deserved what he got.”

  Becky felt the misery waiting for her, the hell Rick had sentenced her to, and shuddered. She would never be the same.

  Seth, who had often thought the girl would grow up to be another Tonya, felt something shift in his mind. No one deserved what she’d been through. “This was Rick’s doing, Becky, not yours.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Becky ordered, face paling under the bruises. “She’s dead now!”

  Seth’s heart lurched. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  Becky looked up at him, blood slowly running down her jaw. “I didn’t think anyone would help me. I expect...expected to die here.”

  Seth imagined a camp without her, and was surprised to find that the thought bothered him.

  “In one minute, I’m going to wrap a clean sheet around you, and then pick you up. Just close your eyes and let me get you to John.”

  Seth was expecting the same reaction that Samantha had gotten. He didn’t understand Becky couldn’t stand the sound of Samantha’s voice, let alone the feel of her trying to be helpful.

  Becky trembled. “I have to stop on the way–to puke.”

  Seth blinked. Where was the emotional flood? The tears? “Okay. Here we go.”

  He actually saw her body tense, as if she was terrified that he might do what Rick had. “I won’t hurt you, Rebecca. Neither will the other Eagles.”

  “I know that.” But, she didn’t, really. They were men, and men couldn’t be trusted.

  Becky went rigid as Seth slid his arms under her, breath coming in short gasps. Unable to do anything more than exactly what he’d asked of her, she closed her eyes and didn’t struggle.

  Seth lifted her tiny body as gently as he could, and sensed her clamp down on a scream. His gentle heart lurched. “Easy, baby. Just hang on.”

  Seth took her outside with careful steps that still caused her pain and the sentries starting to show up from Kevin’s call saw enough to understand. They turned away in respect and cold fury.

  Kevin was waiting with gas cans. “Now?”

  Seth nodded, moving for his car and not the one that Samantha was already inside. “Do it, and then find out exactly where John is. Tell him to pull over and wait.”

  Inside the now burning house, Rick’s charring skeleton glowered bitterly. Denied peace, over time his ghost might collect the energy of those who passed. If it grew strong enough to commit a murder, he would become solid, regaining a cursed life. That had been the way of things before the war, and it continued, unchanged, afterward. Restless ghosts remain so, because they know death isn’t final.

  Chapter Four

  In the Garden

  1

  Angela’s eyes shot open. “It’s done.”

  Marc hurried to the bed. “You okay?”

  “It’s over now,” she repeated, wanting him to confirm it.

  “Yes. The slavers are no longer a threat to anyone.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Marc forced his gaze away from the ugly wound. “Yes.”

  He resumed his seat next to her bed and sent a charming smile. “What about you? Feeling better?”

  “Yeah,” Angela grunted gently. “Let’s go with that.”

  Marc chuckled at the joke because it was expected, thinking he would be extremely glad when Safe Haven arrived. Hopefully, he only had another hour to get through.

  “Brady.”

  Marc looked over to see the fingers on her injured hand moving. It was a great sign, and he quickly leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Happy for you, honey.”

  Angela opened her palm, smiling, and Marc was clear on what she wanted. He gave her the Python he had carefully tended in her stead.

  Angela slowly transferred the gun to the blood-crusted holster on her right hip that she had insisted John leave on. Knowing it was there might help keep the nightmares at bay. Angela drifted off while hoping that Becky was able to find something to use in the same manner.

  Marc saw that she had fallen asleep and eased out of the chair to go take a turn on sentry duty.

  Zack’s second in command came quickly when called, reporting that everythin
g was quiet. The XO expected to be asleep on his bedroll at Angela’s side in about two minutes.

  The warehouse they were sheltering in had once held engine parts–Kansas was dotted with places like these and Adrian was stripping them down–but now it served as only another relic of the old world. No one was flying planes or anything else these days–not even flags. But for the one Adrian had up at the mess, it would have been something Marc hadn’t seen since the war.

  He stared hard at the surroundings, the cicada-lined trees and waist-high fog rolling through the thick trunks. Almost surreal, Marc thought, taking up a high post.

  The rest of the Eagles not with Kyle were perched in various places around the warehouse, tired enough to kill for the slightest reason. It had been a very long trip–one never to be forgotten, no matter how hard they might try.

  Marc used his thermal scope to search for heat signatures that would indicate something alive. He saw only dark, still forms and tried to keep his nerves under control. A sense of being unprotected coated the area. In the hours since parting from Adrian, the unease had only increased, and Marc again found himself longing for the camp’s noisy arrival. It had become home without him realizing it.

  Marc heard the soft murmur of voices and knew Allan and Angie were talking. She was a lot stronger now, thanks to whatever Adrian had done. Marc had also figured out that staying away was the best thing the witch could do to help. Angela had been too weak for the demon to come forward, and even now, that fiery spirit only came in curt, unsympathetic visits. The sharing of energy between her and Angela was something he hadn’t known about, and Marc wondered suddenly if Adrian had.

  Faced with too much time to think, Marc let his mind ponder Adrian a bit deeper than usual. It was hard not to after everything that had happened. The blond man was in charge of an ever-growing camp of armed survivors who would banish him when they found out who he had been and what he’d done. Rather than finding a way to get them to accept it, Adrian was busy fixing the flaws of the old world.

  Marc flashed to his first nights in camp, when he’d learned about the double standard for some parts of their population. Ray was where Angie had been, starting over, but without his blinders anymore. Even the reporter would be a convert now. Why would so clever a leader not find a way for his people to accept the truth?

  No answer came, and Marc wondered which way he would fall when it all came out. Would he and Angie be side-by-side in defense, or would they end up on opposite teams? It was hard to guess at. He was sure the truth would emerge eventually, but he no longer had the driving urge to help it happen.

  Clearly, neither did Cynthia. She had insisted on being a part of Adrian’s guard when he left, but she’d spent a hard minute picking. Adrian only taking three men–Seth, Jeff, and John–had made the choice for her. Marc hadn’t realized that Angie had the support of the camp’s women, but it was clear from hearing about Anne and watching Cynthia that she had been subtly manipulating her own choices into place. Angela was so much like Adrian that it was horrifying. How bad would it get over time? Would she end up scarred and missing limbs, using her gifts openly for the camp upon their asking? A real-life Merlin for Safe Haven’s King. Was that the master plan?

  Marc refused to let himself answer, staring at shadowy main road the camp would come down. Why did life always seem to get harder?

  2

  John studied his wife from the passenger seat of the ambulance. He had been waiting here for her when she got in, and his accusing expression had been enough to stop even a word of welcome between them. Not sure what all he needed to say, John had kept quiet, allowing them to hear the faint gunshots under the storm, and almost an hour had passed.

  Anne followed the blurry lights of the rig in front of them, aware of her husband’s disapproval. She knew why, even though he hadn’t said anything. She finally let out a harsh sigh.

  “You don’t make the patients wait this long. Why me, Mr. Harmon?”

  John blinked, not used to hearing so sharp a tone from her. “You lied to me, Mrs. Harmon. That’s why.”

  “By omission, yes.” Anne didn’t remind him that he’d done the same thing to her in the beginning of this new life. She didn’t need to. “I’m sorry for it.”

  “But you’d do it again!” he accused, ignoring the rocking ambulance. The wind hadn’t let up much. Neither had his anger.

  “Yes, and so would you. I had to find out on my own.” Anne gave him what he needed to be able to accept it–the truth.” You broke our trust first.”

  Hearing her say it smashed through his furious indignation. John’s shoulders slumped.

  Anne hated his misery. “I hope to prove my loyalty, and to earn back your love.”

  “I always have love for you!” John immediately denied.

  The wife finished leading him into giving her what she had to have. “I can wait until you’re too sick, if that will make it easier on you…”

  John’s anger broke under a flood of terror. “No, please don’t… I want those last moments with you!”

  Anne gasped at the unforgiving anguish ripping through her chest. Her husband would die soon, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  They reached out a hand at the same time for comfort, grips tight. Neither could imagine being without the other.

  The truck in front of them slowed and came to a stop, forcing them to do the same.

  John motioned to the glove box, expression daring her to protest. “Get it.”

  Anne reluctantly retrieved the gun he kept there, nervous. She’d only had a couple of quiet lessons.

  Lee came to the window, and John quickly rolled it down. “What is it?”

  “We have two injured camp members catching up,” Lee told him grimly. “They need care. I’ll drive.”

  John and Anne switched to the rear of the ambulance to wait, assuming the mission team had run into trouble.

  After a long minute of exchanging hurt, needful glances, John slowly tugged his wife closer. “Together for the rest of it?”

  Anne nodded, holding onto him, to his comforting life force. “You know it.”

  John winced, but didn’t let go.

  They stayed that way until Samantha opened the door, looking like she’d been beaten. Behind her, Seth was carrying Becky, who clearly had been.

  John moved aside to let them in, pushing back the pain and worry to do his duty. There would be time for mourning later.

  3

  “This is an off-limits area! State your business!”

  The sight of Marc on the dock of the warehouse, alert guards in the shadows around him, allowed Adrian to breathe again. He hated being split up.

  “I own the place,” Adrian joked tiredly.

  “Welcome home...Boss.”

  Adrian’s eyelids began to sting. Even if it was only a show for the men, Marc’s tone was more genuine than Adrian felt he had any right to.

  Adrian grunted in weary annoyance with his emotions. I need sleep. “Kenn has Point. Get us set up for a week.”

  The camp members, who had also been without Adrian for much longer than any of them were comfortable with, rushed from their vehicles.

  “Let them through,” Adrian ordered. He was quickly surrounded.

  While the Eagles got the camp set up, Adrian allowed his people to see and hear the battle. Cynthia had surrendered the tape recorder in her pocket as they pulled in to lead the convoy. She was his now, in more ways than one.

  Adrian motioned to the reporter, telling her silently that she was on her own time.

  Cynthia nodded, but didn’t leave, and Adrian had to decide if she knew the codes or only was acting as if she had understood.

  Okay to stay? Cynthia sent. She didn’t want to leave his guard until Kenn had camp set up. Less distractions would keep their guards watching what they were supposed to. If she and Rick could sneak through the shadows and get to the chain of command, then so could others.

  Adrian grinned at the re
porter. “You’re my shadow until camp’s up.”

  Cynthia smiled back, blushing a bit at his open reversal of her outcast status. “Thank you.”

  Adrian pushed out a wave of pleasure. “My honor, Cyn. My honor.”

  Those around fell quiet at the interaction. Cynthia wasn’t an outcast anymore! How had that happened?

  The tape was playing, coming to the end now, and Adrian stared at Cynthia as the gunshots echoed. He owed her so much. They all did.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  “She’s hit!”

  “He’s dead! Cesar’s dead!”

  “Who did it? Did Adrian get him?”

  “Other side’s pourin’, Boss.”

  “No. It was Cynthia.”

  The powerful recorder had captured the talk of the Eagles as Adrian fought to save Angela.

  “Cynthia shot him?”

  “Good thing, too.”

  “Yeah, his next shot would have killed Angie.”

  “Pressure!”

  “Damn. Look at that puddle spread. One hit might still be enough.”

  Adrian switched the player off. “You have one request from the top two team leaders. Use them wisely.”

  The camp understood that she was to be rewarded. They surrounded her next, and Cynthia was forced to pass guard duty to someone else in favor of being accepted back into the herd.

  “Took a call, Boss.” Kenn shouldered his way through the crowd. When he sent a hard glare around, most of the people headed toward the familiar mess now taking shape behind them. The others fled for bathrooms and showers, all eager to discuss what they’d been through. The center fire would be busy as Safe Haven compared stories and drew conclusions.

  “The mission team had a delay. One of the slaves is pregnant and having trouble. Kyle stayed, says he’ll catch up in a few hours.”

  “Fine,” Adrian approved the slow travel, always eager to welcome new children into his flock. “What about the doctor?”

  “Ambulance should be here anytime.” Kenn had been glad to hear that Samantha was safe, and shocked to find out that Becky wasn’t in any of the vehicles he had sent out. It was a perfect example of his leadership–just not good enough.