The Survivors: Book One (66 page)

Marc sighed, eyes on her face. “Because you owe him.”

Angela shook her head, choosing to give him complete honesty, whether he was ready to hear it or not. “Not anymore. When he left me out here to fend for myself - hoping I couldn’t, that I wouldn’t - that cancelled our deal more than anything else he’s done.”

“Then why?”

“It’s hard to explain. I’m going for my son, but there’s something else that’s pulling at me too, at the
other
side of me. I dream a lot. I’m sure you know.”

He knew very well. The nightmares had come less often, but when they did, they seemed worse. Twice, she’d woken him up screaming about a metal monster.

“I see a refugee camp most nights, and it’s full of people.
Our
kind of people and they need help. I want to belong there. I want us to be a part of that protection.”

There wasn’t a lot Marc could say. Being alone with her was great, but it couldn’t stay this way. “In the same group as your man? Don’t you think that’s asking a little much?”

She stuck a cigarette in her mouth. “Of course it is. For now, our son’s all that matters, anyway. We’ll handle it as it comes.”

“Remember the night we made him?” Marc hadn’t meant to say it out loud and was relieved to see her blush rather than get scared or mad.

“No, not so much.”

“Ouch. That hurts.” He feigned being crushed, aware that he really felt it - he’d thought of little else during sex for the last fifteen years.

Her eyes softened a bit. “Don’t ask questions unless…”

“…you’re prepared to hear the answer,” he finished, laughing with her.

“We could talk about it,” Marc teased. “Maybe you’d recall.”

“No need to.”

“So you do?” Marc watched her eyes turn a smoky, midnight blue and tensed.

Angela was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “All the time, at first, Brady. I’d think about you, and I’d wonder what raven-haired, blue-eyed whore you were with. I’d wonder if you were able to sleep afterwards, if you stayed until morning and kissed her lips, if you promised to love her forever as you walked out the door.”

Marc took a step closer, heart aching. “No Angie, to all of it. I’ve only had one love, only said it once, and I meant it. Forever hasn’t come yet.”

A tear spilled from under her dark lashes, “Don’t. It hurts.”

“I’d take it away if I could.”

“You have some of it. Knowing you came back means something to me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t knock.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Truce?” He held out a hand, and she shook it, smiling. “Didn’t know we were at war.”

Angela let her hand linger, the contact with another human, sliding across her skin in warmth, was something she had missed. When he moved toward her, she held still, needing to see if the stray curls of want she’d been feeling were real. Could she be whole in time?

Marc saw her nostrils flare as his hands came up to her face, and she closed her eyes when his palm slid along her cheek, thumb rubbing lightly across her bottom lip.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, head leaning forward. “A Goddess.” Marc pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, felt her sudden intake of breath. Not sure if it was fear or desire, he pulled back. “Angie?”

Her hands curled into balls, wanting his kiss, wanting to be faithful. Not sure, either, about that flood of heat low in her gut, Angela stepped into his arms and tilted her mouth up.

Marc didn’t give her time to change her mind.

Angela stiffened as his hand went to the back of her head, but the mouth against hers was sweet…musky…he tugged her closer, and she curled her arms around his neck, lost in the first real passion she had felt in too many years.

Marc deepened the kiss, let their tongues touch, rub, and the doors between their minds swung open, thoughts mixing.

“Missed you!”

“Need you!”

“Taste like a woman.”

“Smell like a man.”

“My Woman.”

“My Man.”

The last one made Angela gasp against his mouth, and she slammed the doors, broke the kiss in surprise. So much feeling in a single embrace!

Marc stepped back, turned away to lie. “I’m sorry.”

“Brady.”

Her voice was rough, sexy, and he looked back slowly, prepared to hear almost anything.

“It wasn’t fear.”

Marc grinned as she turned away, body hard, and heart light. It was going to be a good day.

Angela’s thoughts were along the same line, and she was hoping that feeling would stay with her through the hard reunion she knew was coming. She had a plan of action based on what little she’d picked up about the people Kenn was with. Marc would have to watch his back, but there might be a chance for peace if her Marine could be reasoned with. She would know within the first few hours of being around his people, if that stood a chance. If not, she would use the backup - they’d run. After all this time with Brady, there was no way she could go back to being what she’d been before – caged. There was no way the Witch or the old Angela would allow that. They’d kill Kenny first.

3

Angela ducked under his arm, grunting in effort as she spun and dropped, throwing her leg out to trip him. Anticipating her, Marc jumped, but she’d counted on that and immediately spun again, her leg catching his ankle as he landed.

Tripping, he rolled forward. Marc was on his feet in an instant, turning, and knew she was already there, and he was impressed.

Angela used the palms of both hands to shove him, hard, and for the first time since he’d begun to teach her, Marc landed on his ass in the dirt, grunting at the impact. “Very, very good. Now, do it again.”

Angela rushed him the second he was upright, eyes going to his right. When he defended the left, she came straight up the middle, hands going to his big arms, leg sweeping him again as she shoved and ducked the fingers that tried to pull her along as he fell.

“That’s was great,” he praised, starting to get back up.

“Don’t move!”

Her tone froze him with his hands splayed out in the dirt. He sensed movement near his fingers as she slowly drew her weapon.

“Roll to your right when I start, and come up firing. Targets at ten, two and three.”

Marc heard the soft pad of paws, more than one, and watched her eyes for the moment to react.

“Shit. Two more at 12 o’ clock,” Angela watched the three lanky, gray-and-white wolves, trying to judge their intentions. When a big black-and-gold animal she hadn’t seen lunged toward from the shadows, there was only time to react.

Angela fired, a bit wildly on the first few shots, and one of the rounds caught the wolf in mid-leap, slamming into its chest. It landed on the ground with a hard thud as Marc rolled and hit his feet, began to fire.

“Watch your six!” he warned, immediately sure they were pack-hunting. He put them back to back as the brittle stalks around them swayed with barely seen movement. The sky had begun to darken as they worked out, but neither had worried, used to being in the dark, but this time they had let dangerous predators get close.

Suddenly, they were under attack, moving eyes gleaming at them through the dusk-tinted rows. They fired at the same time, dropping two wolves that had jumped from opposite sides.

A dark shadow appeared at her hip, and Angela stopped herself from shooting as she recognized Dog. Her eyes narrowed on a stocky white wolf running in and out of the distant, yellow stalks. Before she could take aim on the leader, another shadow streaked past her.

“Damn it!” Again, she kept herself from firing by only a hair. “Dog just went to my right, chasing the white one.”

Marc nodded, turning them to face another duel attack meant to separate. They came in low, lunging for legs, and both shots killed, but two more hungry hunters jumped at Angela, coming fast.

“Duck!” she shouted, firing. She got the low animal in the chest as the other went sailing overhead, and she heard Marc take care of it as more and more eyes shined mercilessly in the dimness. Wolves were now streaming through the corn like rats.

Making sure they stayed tightly against each other, Marc moved them in half circles, firing and kicking at those not hungry enough to lunge, but still bold enough to snap. He could feel Angela doing the same behind him, her grunts and shots mirroring his.

Flames rose up behind them suddenly, Marc catching a tall shadow from the corner of his eye as he turned, shot a leaping wolf in the chest, turned, and killed a snapping wolf going for Angie’s leg.

More fire erupted, along with the pungent smell of gasoline as full darkness fell over them, and some of the wolves hesitated, but not those hungry frontrunners.

Angela jerked forward, stiff-arming a determined predator in the throat. Her gun was empty and she knew by the silence behind her that Marc's was too. Drooling, fur bushed up, the wolves moved closer with hungry eyes.

Angela fumbled for the speed loader on her belt, and Marc turned them again, slamming his in as two more wolves lunged. He caught one in the neck, blood spraying, and shoved them backwards in time to let the second animal go sailing by.

“Incoming!”

Reloaded, Angela shot the wolf as it hit the hard ground and fired at eyes in the air, then the flames were between her and the corn as Marc rotated them again. Shadows lunged, coming through gaps in the wall of fire, and she picked them off, assuming Brady’s silent gun meant he was reloading.

Marc stared intently at the hulking man intently, the 3/4 circle of flames discouraging many of the animals. The newcomer was gigantic, eight by five it seemed like, and yet he was light on his feet as he poured the last of the gasoline to close the gaps.

“Stay inside,” the big man instructed gruffly without turning, voice heavy under his furs and hood.

Before Marc could say anything, Angela spun around, six shots gone. She gasped in surprise at the big man, but just like Marc, her fingers didn’t stop. She had to be ready when he turned them again.

“On your right, woman!”

She slammed the clip home and fired without looking, almost able to hear the slobbering jaws about to clamp down on her ankle. A heavy body thudded to the ground.

“Dog! Guard her!” Marc shouted, firing.

The wolf appeared at her side, bloody muzzle snarling viciously at two more animals trying to sneak through a thin gap in the fire wall.

4

Kenn shifted restlessly in the plush seat of his truck, unafraid of moving alone through the darkness, but more than scared of not being able to find a way to keep Adrian from discovering what he’d done, who he’d been.

Angela was close. He could feel it, and though it had been a relief to get to Cheyenne and find only the Slavers (he’d watched for an extra day to be sure she wasn’t there, high in the trees with his scope), he knew she was within a day of him, just not sure in what direction.

She was likely southeast, coming in on a straight line, but instead of heading that way at the highway sign, Kenn kept the Bronco on the path he had taken after slipping away from the massive Slaver camp. With fresh mags for his M16 - swiped from the Slaver camp - it had been an easy choice, and the Marine was sticking to it.

Kenn had his lights off, brake bulbs loosened to eliminate the telling glows, and he slowed as loud, rapid gunshots echoed in the darkness. Window down, he rolled slowly, trying to pinpoint the location.
It was her
, he was suddenly sure of it. When the noise continued, he edged closer.

More gunshots rang out, a battle for survival it sounded like, and he stopped as movement and light caught his eye. Scope always at hand, Kenn’s eyes narrowed on what appeared to be a burnt down ring of fire.

She was in trouble, he could feel that clearly, and the plan fell into place with a horrible snap. He would arrive in time to finish off whoever had just killed his wife.

And if she survives?
his worry asked, and Kenn grinned in the pitch black truck. The camp would be told she hadn’t.
If
they even found out how close she’d been. He certainly had no intentions of telling them.

5

Angela muttered a curse as three more wolves slunk into the ring and heard Brady echo her expletive as he fired repeatedly, hitting them all. They were in deep. It was time to let the Witch out and worry about the consequences later. “Fire!”

Bright blue flames spewed from Angela's outstretched hands, hitting a gap in the wall just as two wolves tried to dart through, and their fur lit up, the heat of her power blowing them back into the dark cornstalks as the gap closed.

“Over here!” Marc shouted desperately as the big man took a rifle from the sling on his shoulder, and the Witch obeyed, flames shooting like golden-blue comets from her fingers. It closed the spaces and each infusion traveled the wall of fire, strengthening it until the ring was solid.

“That’s it, Brady,” she gasped. “I’m low.”

All the animals were outside the ring now, whining uneasily, fighting with each other, and Angela pushed the Witch back as she continued to shoot weak balls of light that disappeared into the air before they could reach the fire wall.
Stop. We can't win this way
.

There were numerous dead wolves, but dozens and dozens of eyes still gleamed hungrily at them from the darkness behind the flames. They would wait for the fire to burn out and attack again.

“Bad time to be bleedin',” the big man stated, before he fired a well-aimed shot that took down a pair of wolves trying to breach the wall, one bullet doing the job of two.

Marc nodded, keeping just as close an eye on the big stranger, as he was the wolves.

“You hit, Brady?” Angela demanded, keeping her eyes on flickering shadows.

“No. Duck!”

They moved at the same time, dropping low, firing together, and two more wolves hit the dirt, slid through the already dying flames.