The Survivors

Near Chadron, Nebraska

March 30th

1

“We are an American Red Cross Convoy picking up survivors. We offer food, shelter, medical care, and protection. Does anyone copy?”

“We hear you, Safe Haven! We’re in Hot Springs. We’re out of food. Are you around here?”

“Close enough. How many people?”

The man who answered the woman’s plea for help was different from the one they’d been hearing for the last week. Marc and Angela both stopped cleaning up their late lunch to listen to the conversation. The waves of authority from that voice were impossible to ignore. To Marc’s ears, he sounded military.

“Twelve. Two are sick. We don’t know what it is.”

“We offer help to everyone, sick or not. Do you know Morse or phonetic code?”

“I know both, but go slow, it’s been a while.”

“Are you an ex-sailor by any chance, Hot Water?”

“Nancy, and yes, for seven years. How’d you know?”

“Because of the slight dislike in your tone. Marines and Navy didn’t mix well in the old world.” The Safe Haven man’s tone was laced with a comforting humor.

“No, sir, they didn’t.”

“They do now. We’re all soldiers in the same fight for survival. Take down this message.”

“He tells his men that too.” Angela was listening in many ways.

The taps came slowly enough for Angela, who’d been learning the code from Marc, to understand. “They’re in the Black Hills. That’s one day from us.”

Marc stared over the hood, full of longing. I want more time.

Me too.

Can we?

…no. Two days would be All Fools’ Day. Was it an omen?

Marc frowned. “You all right?”

Angela scanned the vast field of corn that ran as far as they could see on both sides of the road. They were five miles from the Nebraska-South Dakota state line. There were barbed fences lined in brown grass struggling to survive. Other than a faded red barn and a tall silo on one side, there was only moldy corn here.

“Angie?” Marc hated the fear in her expression. It hadn’t been there as much in the last weeks. She had worked hard to overcome her weaknesses; he was amazed by how fast she’d done it. “You could call now. Talk to Charlie.”

“I don’t want Kenn to know where we are.” Angela pushed aside the fear as her mother’s heart spewed awful words. “And we need to talk about what happens when we get there.”

Marc straightened up. “After we make camp tonight?”

“Let’s stay here. Meet up with them in the next few days.” Her gaze wandered large circles of charred dirt that reminded her of the empty holes they’d seen in middle Nebraska.

Marc’s unease grew. They had covered three hundred miles in nine days, driving continuously. Last night, he’d had to insist they rest and get ready to face whatever was coming. They had made one long stop to replace his Blazer. Again, they were identical; the one they had found was the exact match to hers. Fate…? Marc wasn’t sure. She had been pushing them hard to get here. Now, she was hanging back. Nerves? “Are you sure? We could be there by dusk tomorrow.”

“It’s already been ninety-eight days. A few more won’t matter.”

Marc took a step toward her. “You can’t put it off, honey. Face it, and we’ll go from there.”

Angela watched Dog patrol the edges of the shoulder high corn. “I’m not avoiding, but I am nervous. I’m cutting ropes, erasing his hold on me, and he’ll hate me for it. You need to have the details you asked for back in Indiana, but I need to strengthen my determination. Will you drill me on the things you’ve taught me, remind me that I’m allowed to fight back?”

Marc’s heart broke for her. “I think that’s a great idea. You’ve gotten a lot stronger. He won’t know how to handle you.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

2

“Faster. You can handle it.”

Angela pushed the pedal down; the Blazer leapt forward, throwing them back.

“On my mark. Just like before.”

Angela concentrated, hands and feet connected to the thrum of the engine, the vibrations of the tires.

“Now.”

She spun the wheel, jerking up the emergency brake, and then they were spinning in the dusty street, seat belts holding them in place.

“Now.”

Gunning the gas, Angela slammed the brake and straightened the wheel. The Blazer shot forward.

“Again. Seventy this time.”

Angela mashed the gas, emboldened by her successes. She managed to make the emergency rotation without his instructions this time.

She waved at the line of dirty, faded targets they were now facing. “Next?”

“Loser has dishes!”

Angela got out of the car and took off at his challenge, darting for the distant line of dented cans they’d set up.

Distracted by her happiness, Marc gave chase and left their vehicles in the middle of the street for anyone to see.

3

Angela was able to match Marc shot for shot until he moved the cans so far back that she could barely see them. After her missing half, and him missing none, she reloaded her gun and put it away. “That’s not a challenge for you, is it?”

Marc shrugged, expression shuttered. “Does it matter?”

Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment.

“Maybe. Stand by that speed limit sign.”

“If you like.”

It was amazing to watch. When she asked him to go farther, Marc did it with a curious glance she chose not to answer.

Is she imagining a showdown between me and her man?

Yes.

Pride swamped Marc; he fought it down and settled in to give her the proof she needed.

Marc didn’t miss a single shot. Angela knew this wasn’t hard for him. Marc was good. Better than anyone she’d ever seen, maybe even Kenn, who liked to take her to the range but not let her shoot. Designed to rub in how defenseless she was, it was yet another difference declaring the two men worlds apart. Kenn had been her warden, while Marc... He makes me feel safe.

Angela smelled him as he stepped by–smoke, sweat, and underneath, musky man. Her nostrils flared; she inhaled deeply before it was gone. She turned away, lost and hurting all over again. We’ve missed so much!

“You all right?” He couldn’t stop asking that question.

Angela stared at the thinner layer of sky grit instead of his handsome profile. She could almost feel the sun again, but even the good things couldn’t distract her from the fear, the desire. There was no way this would end well. “Just thinking.”

“Care to share?”

She shook her head.

Marc could feel her unease, her sadness. He tried one last time to get her to take the easy way out. “Let’s grab our son and go. We’ll find other people to settle and rebuild with.”

“I can’t.”

Marc sighed. “Because you owe him.”

Angela chose to give 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, I wouldn’t, it 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 pulling at me too, at the other side of me. I dream a lot. I’m sure you know.”

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

“I dream of a refugee camp most nights. 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.”

Marc grunted. “In the same group as your man? Don’t you think that’s asking a little much?”

She shrugged. “Yes, but our son is all that matters in the end. We’ll handle the rest of it as it comes.”

“Remember the night we made him?” Marc hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He was relieved when Angie blushed.

“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 voice softened. “Don’t ask questions unless…”

“You’re prepared to hear the answer.” He laughed with her. When she met his eye and held the contact, Marc tested the water. “We could talk about it. Maybe you’d remember.”

She stiffened. “No need to.”

“So you do?” Marc watched her eyes glow a smoky, midnight blue; he tensed. Mistake! Shit!

Angela was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “All the time at first. 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 afterward, if you stayed until morning and kissed her lips, if you promised to love her forever as you walked out on her.”

Marc took a step forward, heart aching. “No, Angie, to all of it. I’ve only said that to one woman, and I still mean it. Forever hasn’t come yet.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “Don’t. It hurts.”

“I’d take it away if I could.”

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

Marc blinked. “I didn’t think you knew.”

“I picked it up a while back.” She shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”

“I didn’t.”

“You would rather I went on thinking you didn’t come back for me at all?”

“Yes!”

Angela frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to hate you?”

“Because you should.” Marc faced his mistakes. “I knew you’d forgive me. You’re a good person, but I have to be punished.”

“Because I was hurt?”

“Because you were being hurt right then and my cowardice let it continue for another decade!” Marc’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve never run from anything in my adult life…except you.”

The pain she’d been carrying all these years began to ease a little. He was scared to face me; he thought I was happy without him. He’d tried to do the right thing, after doing the wrong thing. It hadn’t worked out for either of them, but that was the one explanation she’d never considered.

Marc smothered under thick shame. “It was unforgivable.”

“No, it was fate.”

Marc was startled from his self-evisceration. “What?”

Angela tried to be comforting. She’d had a long time to think about it. “One of you would have died that day. The other would have gone to prison. Fate didn’t want that; neither do I.”

“You don’t want either of us dead or gone?” Marc was dazed at how fast she’d ripped him open and then begun healing him from the inside.

“No.” She sighed. “We’ve all made mistakes; the past is done, as much as it can be, but only if Kenny gets a pass too. Charlie wouldn’t be waiting for me in that refugee camp if he hadn’t cared for us all these years.”

“That wasn’t care. It was ownership.”

“I know. But it allowed us to survive. Fate has jobs for all of us. I believe that.”

“I don’t.” Marc didn’t want any part of fate.

“I know.” Angela smiled. “But fate brought you back into my life, Marc. Not when either of us wanted it, but when it was needed. You’ll see that in time, I think.”

Marc made a face.

Angela snickered.

The awful tension was broken; sadness took its place.

“I’m sorry I didn’t knock on your door that day.” Marc was relieved, but he wasn’t sure if it was okay to feel it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call for you. Fate or not, if I could do it over, I’d call you.”

That was enough for Marc to be able to let it go. He put his hand out. “Truce?”

She shook with him. “Didn’t know we were at war.” Angela let her hand linger. She’d missed the feel of skin sliding across hers in warmth and love.

Marc read the moment and pushed his luck.

Angela held still as he leaned in, needing to know if the stray curls of desire she’d been feeling were real. Can I be whole again in time or will the thought of sex always scare me now?

Marc saw her nostrils flare as his hands came up to her face; she shut her eyes as his palm slid along her cheek. His thumb rubbed across her bottom lip. “So beautiful.”

Marc pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. He felt her sudden intake of breath. Not sure if it was fear, he pulled back. “Angie?”

Her hands were curled into tight balls. She wanted his kiss, but she was scared. Time to face it and see how damaged I really am. Angela melted into his arms and tilted her mouth up.

Marc didn’t give her time to change her mind. He delivered the welcome he’d been saving since she’d recoiled from him back in Indiana.

Angela stiffened as his hand slid to the back of her neck, but the mouth against hers was sweet. He tugged her closer... She curled her arms around his neck, lost in the first real passion she’d felt in too many years.

Marc deepened the kiss. Their tongues touched, 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. She slammed the doors and broke the embrace. So much feeling in a single kiss!

Marc glanced away to lie. “I’m sorry.”

“Marc.”

Her voice was rough, sexy. He looked at her, prepared to hear almost anything.

“It wasn’t fear.”

Marc laughed, body hard and heart light. It’s gonna be a good day, Pa.

Angela’s thoughts were along the same line. She hoped the feeling stayed with her through the hard reunion that was coming. She had a plan of action based on what little she’d picked up about the people Kenn had joined. Marc would have to watch his back, but there might be a chance for peace. She would know within the first few hours of being in the camp if that stood a chance.

4

Angela ducked under Marc’s arm, grunting. She spun and dropped, throwing her leg out to trip him.

Marc jumped.

Angela had counted on that. She immediately spun again, catching his ankle as he landed.

Tripped, he rolled forward. Marc was on his feet in an instant, spinning, but he knew she was already there.

Angela used the palms of both hands to shove him, hard.

For the first time since he’d begun to teach her, Marc landed on his ass in the warmed dirt, grunting at the impact. Marc chuckled. “Very, good. Now, do it again.”

Angela rushed him the second he was upright, looking to his right. When he defended the left, she came straight up the middle, hands going to his big arms. She used the leg sweep on him again as she shoved, and then had to duck the fingers that tried to pull her along as he fell.

“That was great.” He started to get up.

“Don’t move!”

Her tone froze Marc with his hands splayed in the moist dirt. He sensed something moving nearby as she drew her weapon.

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

Marc heard the soft pad of paws; he watched her for the moment to react.

“Two more at twelve o’ clock!” Angela watched the three very thin, gray and white wolves, trying to judge their intentions.

A big black and gold animal she hadn’t seen lunged from the shadows. Shit! “Now!”

Angela fired, a bit wildly on the first few shots. One of the rounds caught a wolf in midleap, slamming into the chest. It landed on the ground in a hard thud.

Marc rolled and hit his feet; he began to fire. “Watch your six!”

The wolves were pack hunting. Marc 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 of them had worried over it. They were used to being in the dark, but this time, they’d let themselves be surrounded by dangerous predators. More eyes gleamed at them through the dusk tinted rows.

They fired at the same time, dropping two wolves that jumped from opposite sides.

A dark shadow appeared at her hip; Angela stopped herself from shooting as she recognized Dog. She narrowed in on a stocky white wolf running through the distant, yellow stalks. Before she could take aim, a shadow streaked by her.

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

Marc spun them to face another dual attack meant to separate prey. The thin animals came in low, lunging for legs. Both shots killed, but two more hungry hunters jumped at Angela.

“Duck!” She got the lowest animal in the chest as the other sailed overhead. She heard Marc take care of it as more and more eyes shined in the dimness. Wolves were streaming through the corn like rats.

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

Flames rose up behind them. Marc saw the tall shadow of a man as he turned, shot a leaping wolf in the chest, spun again 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 the area. A few of the wolves hesitated, but not the hungry frontrunners.

Angela jerked forward, stiff-arming a determined predator in the throat. Her gun was empty; she knew by the silence behind her that Marc’s was too.

The wolves padded forward with their back fur bushed up.

Angela fumbled for the speed loader on her belt.

Marc turned them again, slamming his mag in as two more wolves lunged. He caught one in the neck, blood spraying. He shoved Angie backward in time to let the second animal go sailing by. “Incoming!”

Reloaded, Angela shot the wolf as it hit the hard ground, then fired at one in the air as Marc rotated them again. Shadows lunged, coming through gaps in the wall of fire. She picked them off as they got closer, assuming the silent gun meant Marc was reloading.

Marc stared at the hulking man, fingers working. The circle of flames was discouraging many of the animals, though it wasn’t complete yet. The newcomer was gigantic, over 8’ tall, and yet he was graceful as he poured the last of the gasoline to ignite the gaps.

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

“On your right, woman!”

She twisted the knob to load the bullets and flipped the chamber shut as she dropped the loader to the ground. She fired without looking, almost able to hear the slobbering jaws about to clamp onto her ankle.

A heavy body thudded to the ground.

“Dog! Guard her!” Marc fired repeatedly.

Dog appeared at Angela’s side, snarling at more wolves trying to sneak through a thin gap in the wall of fire.

Nearby, an engine echoed but no one noticed.

5

Kenn shifted in the plush seat of his truck.

He wasn’t afraid of being alone in the darkness, but he was 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’s here. It had been a relief to get to Cheyenne and find the slavers (he’d watched for an extra day to be sure she wasn’t there), but he knew she was within a day of him, just not in what direction. She was likely southeast, coming in on a straight line, but instead of going that way at the highway sign, Kenn kept the Bronco on the path he had taken after slipping away from the massive slaver camp.

Kenn had his lights off, brake bulbs loosened to eliminate the telling glows; he slowed as loud, rapid gunshots disturbed the darkness. He put his window down and rolled slowly, trying to pinpoint the location. It’s her. Kenn was sure.

More gunshots rang out. It sounded like a battle for survival. He stopped. Scope always at hand, Kenn narrowed in on what appeared to be a ring of fire.

She’s in trouble. The plan fell into place with a horrible snap. He would arrive in time to finish off whoever had killed his wife.

What if she survives?

Kenn grimaced at that possibility. I can’t go back to Adrian unless I make sure she doesn’t.

6

Angela muttered a curse. Three more wolves slunk into the ring. She heard Marc echo her expletive as he fired, hitting them all. They were in deep trouble. The ammo was almost gone, but the wolves weren’t. It was time to let the witch out and worry over the consequences later. “Fire!”

Bright flames spewed from Angela’s outstretched hands, hitting a gap in the wall right as two wolves tried to dart through. Their fur lit up; the heat of her power blew them back into the dark cornstalks as the gap filled in.

“Over here!” Marc shouted as the stranger took a rifle from the sling on his shoulder.

She obeyed, flames shooting like golden comets from her fingers. It closed the spaces as each infusion traveled the circle of fire, strengthening it until the ring was solid.

All the animals were outside the ring now, whining uneasily, fighting each other. Angela pushed the witch back as she continued to shoot weak balls that only disappeared into the air. Stop. We can’t win this way.

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

“Bad time to be bleedin’.” The big stranger fired a well-aimed shot that took down a pair of wolves trying to breach the wall. One bullet did the job of two.

Marc kept track of the stranger as much as he did the wolves.

“You hit, Marc?!” Angela kept her attention on flickering shadows.

“Duck!”

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

Dog jumped, meeting a wolf as it came over the fire. His powerful jaws clamped onto an unprotected throat.

Angela fired at the second animal stalking Dog.

Her first shot landed near its paw. Angie was afraid of hitting the wrong dark body, but her second shot went straight between its eyes.

“This is my last mag.”

“Me too.”

The stranger fired a bright red flare into the sky before their words had faded. Seconds later, a tremendous howl split the air.

Wwwhhoooo!

It was a piercing whistle of some kind. The notes were melodic, yet offensive at the same time. It seemed to go on forever.

Marc put a calming hand on Dog’s shoulder as the wolves hesitated in their attack. Marc thought it had come from maybe two miles away, but no more.

Angela winced as the wailing increased and the wolves joined in. The volume continued to rise as the wolf call came again, pulling at them.

“That’ll be the Missus. She’ll have the poison bait out. We’ll be able ta go in a bit.”

“Won’t she need help?” Marc was amazed to see the wolves start leaving.

“No. They don’t climb none too well.”

Angela frowned. “How will you get to your family without running into the wolf pack?”

The man leaned in, big form intimidating. “You tell me, witch.”

Angela concentrated, aware of Marc tensing behind her. “Underground, Max.”

The man grunted. He pushed back his hood to reveal a disfigured face partially hidden by a thick, shaggy beard.

Angela stiffened as the witch whispered. “What payment do you expect for helping us? Nothing’s free. Not before and certainly not now.”

The man shrugged, gaze darting over her shoulder to Marc. “We got a broken radio, no medicine, no ammo. Got any of that?”

She relaxed, rubbing Dog’s ear. “Possibly. What else? That doesn’t equal the debt of three lives.”

His face was hard as he swept her from head to toe. “Girls could use some clothes. Maybe some books?”

Surprised, Angela gave him a genuine smile.

Marc heard the man’s sudden intake of breath. He recognized the sound, that reaction to Angela. He rotated them. “The woman is not for trade.”

The stranger’s face tightened. “Can’t get it up now anyway. Damn diabetes.” He crossed over the dying flames. “Come on. She’ll have supper waitin’.”

Angela and Marc exchanged a long glance of uncertainty, but they chose to follow the big man into the darkness. The corn around them was empty now, but not silent. The breeze blew through the hollow stalks, making an eerie moan that resembled the calling howl they’d heard.

Dog followed, fur still bushed out in warning.

The rows ended, revealing a dark stretch of sick evergreen trees; they exchanged looks that said they would be careful. The wind was cool, smelling of shit. They both spotted the fresh scat littering the dead rows of corn. This was a hunting ground.

“Almost there.” Max moved steadily despite his size. He stopped in front of a large clump of bushes.

Marc stayed by Angela, as did Dog. His fur was flecked in blood. Marc estimated they had come two clicks from the battle scene.

“Grab an end.” The large man bent to clasp a large handful of the damp foliage.

Marc did it while keeping his ears open, content to let the man’s true colors show when they would. The odds on this stranger winning weren’t as high as with the wolves.

“Pull!”

Angela chuckled in surprise at the disguised sewer entrance. Thin, dark green puddles glinted where it met the ground. She was careful not to step in it, wondering if it was the fumes that kept the animals from coming through, or if they had learned to avoid it from seeing their pack mates die.

Marc snapped his fingers, bringing back Dog to his side. For some unknown reason, canines loved to drink antifreeze. He couldn’t be sure Dog wouldn’t try it too despite his intelligence.

“Close the flap. Watch out for rats. The antifreeze don’t tempt ’em, and they don’t scare easy.”

Marc gestured to the night vision glasses on her belt as they trekked into the damp, stinking air of underground.

Instead of putting them on, Angela tapped the stranger on the arm and held them out.

Max started to take them, then shook his head, stepping by her. “You keep ’em and watch out. Your blood’ll probably make fire shoot from their piss. Then we’d never be able ta keep ’em out.”

Angela heard Marc snort in amusement.

She slid the glasses onto her belt. She didn’t sense evil in their huge guide, but him knowing what she was made her uncomfortable. She dropped back, putting more distance between them.

Marc was relaxing. He was almost sure the man had been some sort of military before the war. He lit a smoke as they walked over and around rotting furniture, mildewed piles of clothes, whole and broken cinder blocks. Gray and green moss climbed tall, dank walls that met a cobwebbed, shadowy ceiling above them. Their boots echoed in time to a distant drip of water.

“About there. Be quiet. She’ll have the little ’uns back ta sleep by now.”

Marc sent Angela a silent warning. He thinks we’re a couple. Tell him different and I may have to fight for you when it comes time to leave.

Angela also felt the man’s interest, but there was no sense of him being the one to fear unless he was given orders.

They came to a stop. When Marc gestured, Angela spotted a trap door in a wooden floor over twenty feet up, an impossible jump.

A rock flew through the air. It slammed into the stranger’s cheek.

Max sucked in a surprised breath at the pain as another, bigger stone sailed toward him from the damp darkness. “Damn! It’s me!”

The rocks stopped. An indignant woman snorted. “Shoulda said something!”

Max grunted, rubbing his arm where the second rock had hit. “Jealous, I think. Seen your woman.”

Marc nodded.

“Come on, Lenore! Did I save ’em from the wolves to feed ’em to the rats?”

Angela was unable to keep from grinning at the longsuffering sigh the big man let out.

“Definitely jealous.”

“I am not! The rope’s kinked up again. Hang on!”

Round gleaming eyes appeared in the deeper shadows.

“Now, woman! They’re comin’!”

The trap door slid open; a rope ladder dropped onto the man’s head.

“’Bout damn time. Here!” Max grabbed Angela by her clothes and lifted her onto the ladder in one effortless motion. As she climbed, his big hands settled onto her ass, shoving, caressing.

Angela climbed faster. She jerked herself up and out of his reach. The .357 was pointed at him an instant later. “You touch me again, and your missus will use your balls for bait!”

The man stopped halfway through the opening, glaring.

“Angie.” Marc’s tone was patient, resigned.

“What?!”

“There’s a rat about a foot long trying to have sex with my boot. Let him through.”

Angela’s rage cleared. She holstered her weapon and turned to study the other person in the big, cluttered kitchen.

Dressed in a stained white shirt and an enormous pair of farmer overalls with the pockets ripped off, the large woman smirked back at her. A grand beehive of black and white hair hung in every direction like a bad wig. The long, jagged scars on her face and huge arms said she had defended her life at least once, and she could do it again if needed. Angela felt an immediate kinship. She also knew better than to trust the woman just because of that.

“Lenore Codd.”

Angela held out a hand, faint bell ringing. Isn’t there a fairy tale based on the life of a giant by that name? “Angela. I hope we won’t be a bother to you.”

The woman watched them as she shook, huge hand engulfing Angela’s. “Me? No. Him?” She nodded at the man leaning down a hand to help Marc. Max didn’t react at all when the wolf riding on Marc’s shoulders nipped at him. “Probably already have. ‘Twas me that sent him after ya. Told him I wudn’t cookin’ till he got ya here.”

Angela covered the woman’s large hand with her own. “Then it’s you I owe the debt to. Good. Let me start paying on it. I’m a doctor.” Her voice lowered. “Diabetes can be controlled. Then some of the effects go away.”

“Might could be. Let’s get them men fed and we’ll talk.” The woman clapped her on the shoulder.

Angela held onto the big arm to keep from falling as the reek of corn filled her nose. “Deal.”

Angela took her sweater off and tied it around her waist, not wanting to sweat and stink. She was barely able to walk through the dusty 10x12 room as she followed their host. Cluttered shelves of bags, canisters, and unpacked boxes lined every wall. “Can I help? Set a table? Do cleanup?”

Lenore stared at her, bushy brows coming together. “You’re polite, eager to help. You remind me of the past.”

Angela didn’t look away, though the stench of corn was making her eyes water. “I’m sorry.”

Lenore shrugged massive shoulders. “Don’t be. Wudn’t all evil.”

“Damn it, woman! Feed me! Them!” Max dropped down at the long, wooden table in one corner of the narrow, lantern-lit room.

His wife motioned at a chair, indifferent to the large wolf standing tensely in her kitchen. “Put your man to the right. We’ll stand. Only got two chairs left now. Keepin’ warm’s more important than pass-me-downs.”

Angela shook her head at Marc when he started to offer to take the floor. She brought the heavy chair over with no visible effort. She knew the big woman was pleased when Marc obeyed her and sat in it. The feeling increased when Angela snapped her fingers at Dog to get his attention, then pointed at the trap door. Please?

The wolf went to that spot and laid down, tail and ears tense.

Angela stayed by Lenore while she served huge bowls of what looked like stew from a large metal pot on the wood stove.

Marc fell into a conversation with Max about the wolves. He and Angie kept track of each other with almost constant sweeps.

“Everything’s against us now.” The mountain man cracked his knuckles impatiently.

Marc frowned. “But so many? Packs are never more than ten or fifteen.”

“We killed the world.” Max watched Lenore approach the table. “They hate us enough to band together.”

“Still.”

Max grunted, spoon already in a beefy hand as Lenore set his bowl down with a heavy thud.

Angela looked away from the mats of dark hair on his forearms as he scooped up a big bite of the steaming stew.

Lenore stepped back. “It’s not just the wolves. All animals are the enemy.”

Marc made a face, dismayed by that thought.

Lenore saw his reaction. “Must not be that way where you came from.”

Marc felt danger enter the air. “No idea.”

She studied Marc, ignoring Max when he scowled at her for it. “How far have you come?”

Marc decided to try for a humor distraction. “So many miles I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

Lenore leaned in, intelligence blazing. “Is it safe where you came from? When were you there last?”

Marc nodded toward Angela. “Wrong one to ask.”

Lenore produced a tight, grim smile and turned back to Angela. “He’s trained. We can make some deals, trade. I’m Lenore. He’s Maxwell. Welcome to the killin’ fields of Nebraska.”

7

“Ohio, huh?” Lenore grunted, handing Angela a thick slab of cornbread a few minutes later.

They both ignored the belches and grunts echoing from the table.

“This is so good!” Angela groaned as she chewed the first bite.

Marc glowered when Max’s sly gaze went to Angie’s face and lingered there.

“Missus makes the best.” Max leered at Angela, hungry eyes dropping to her chest.

Angela held her ground, though she had the urge to put her sweater back on. She let her eyes glow red.

Max paled; he dropped his eyes and went back to his meal.

Marc hid a smirk. “You’ve been here since the war?”

Marc wasn’t surprised when Max glanced at his wife.

“Tell ’em what ya will.” Lenore ducked through a curtained door.

Marc saw a long, oddly decorated horn on the frame above that door. I wonder if that’s what made the weird howls.

When Angela turned to see what Marc was staring at, Max waved a hand. “She’s checkin’ their breathin’. Corn fumes.”

They both frowned, confused.

The man finished his last bite before explaining. “We grow the corn. We have to keep it from the rats. Fumes build up while it sets. Poison, o’ course, so we sleep in shifts. When we puke, we know to get out the guns and open the windows ’til it airs out.”

Angela was horrified. “Why?”

The big man’s tone was rough, but his demeanor said he hated it. “To eat. Can’t hunt anymore. Damn wolves get ya or there’s no meat around to hunt cause o’ them. Gotta eat. Gotta last ’em out.”

“You could leave.”

Marc’s suggestion was met with silence.

Angela shook her head when he would have repeated himself. “Not our business. Maybe you should examine their radio now.”

It was enough to fool Max, who immediately responded to the tone and got up. Angela hid a smile at the warning look Marc slid her way. Up to a point, this could be fun.

Marc tried again to get information. “Are you from here?”

Max belched, hefting the radio case to the table. “No. We came from the mountains, near on six months ago now.”

Dog’s head lifted. He put it back down when he recognized the big woman’s steps.

Angela turned to Lenore as she emerged through the curtains. “You vent the corn?”

“Yes, but the generator is out of gas.” Lenore handed her a list. “This is what I need and what we have to trade. I’ll throw in some cornbread if you have the last one.”

Angela scanned the list. When Lenore handed her a pen, Angela understood the male here wasn’t allowed to know how much of what they had. To prevent theft? Control was more probable; the fact that Max had none was likely more responsible for his impotence than the diabetes.

“I can spare this much of each of these. You can find that one here.” Angela pointed with the pen. “That one, I haven’t seen in over a month.”

Lenore creased her brow. “And the last?”

Angela grinned. “Six months’ worth sound good?”

Lenore’s leer said it would go faster. “Deal. I’ll bake while you sleep with your man.”

Unprepared for the probing comment, Angela flushed. She saw the woman’s eyes fill with speculation. She hurried to distract. “You have room for us?”

Lenore nodded absently. “Too much. You’ll stay?”

Angie didn’t like the hungry stare the woman gave Marc as he removed his coat to work on the radio. “Yes, but be clear now. The man is not for trade.”

Marc tensed. There’s the threat. Damn. I thought Max was the problem.

Lenore studied Angela, voice cool. “Things not for trade are often taken by force.”

Angela let the witch surge forward, eyes glowing red again. “And often, people die in the trying. Perhaps mankind will be smarter this time.”

Lenore grunted bitterly. “Not the men.”

Angela let more heat come into her words when Lenore didn’t back down. “Maybe not the women either.”

Lenore flushed at the pointed tone. “But if he’s not yours–”

“He is!” Angela prepared to fight.

Marc got ready to help.

They were both relieved when the woman sighed resignedly.

“I’ve mistaken, maybe. Forgive me?”

Angela waved it away, hoping this was the end of it. “My first time in control. I overreacted.”

“First one’s always the best. They still have a hope it will change back.” Lenore grinned, clapping her on the arm again.

This time, adrenaline and anger kept Angela on her feet without an anchor.

8

“Coming in.” Marc entered, scanned, then locked the door. He’d just finished with the radio and had been escorted to Angela, who had already called it a night. That had surprised Marc, but he understood she wasn’t threatened by the couple anymore. Marc hoped she was right about them.

Dog went straight to Angela for a sniff. Then he explored the room. Covered in dust, it sported a rickety bed, one end table, a plush, dusty chair below a window, and a long, cluttered dresser without a mirror.

Marc blinked guiltily when he saw Angela had a row of medical supplies spread across the dresser. “You hurt?”

Angela didn’t look up from the needle she was threading. “Funny. Get over here.”

Marc gave a sheepish grin at the dry tone. He took off his sweat stained shirt, trying not to wince as the cloth peeled away from the wound.

“When did I get you?”

Marc shrugged out of the gun belts and laid them on the end table near the bed as Dog curled up under the front corner. “First few shots. It’s just a trim.”

Angela rolled her eyes at the crusted, three-inch furrow along the underside of his arm. “I’m always hurting you, Marc. I’m sorry.”

He saw she had cleaned herself up and put on the jeans and black shirt from the emergency kit he had helped her assemble. They’d gotten lucky to have them on when the wolves attacked. “Mistakes happen.”

“I could have killed you. Again.”

Marc tensed as she cleaned the wound with alcohol pads.

Angela found herself watching the way his muscles flexed.

“This world is full of chaos. It was your first real fight. I think you did great.”

Angela fought the urge to reach out and run a hand along his bearded jaw.

“You learned well.”

She examined his injury, letting the doctor take over.

Marc twitched at the needle as it sank into his skin.

Angela tried to hurry. It occurred to her that she had stitching in both of his big arms now. How many more times would he be put in the line of fire for her?

The wind outside picked up suddenly, as if responding.

Angela shivered.

“Damn. It got colder. How do they keep warm in these rooms?”

Angela kept her tone light, but she blushed at the pictures running through her mind. “Body heat.”

That explained all the people in one sloppy tangle in that center room. It made Marc think of how Lenore had held his arm as she led him through, fingers caressing. She had whispered of being a good master if he was unhappy with his current one.

Angela’s anger flared. “She made a move on you?!”

Marc said nothing.

Angela went to her side of the bed as she dried her hands and controlled her rage. She had no real claim on him. If he wanted to sleep with the woman, he could.

“I don’t.”

Her eyes flew to him in time to see him grimace as he tried to pull on the clean shirt she’d put out for him. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Marc sounded amused; it calmed her.

He began trying to button the emergency shirt, but with only one good arm and pain shooting through the other, it was slow going.

Angela waved a hand. “Leave it open or you’re going to rip out those stitches.”

“You could do it for me.”

Angela frowned. He won’t ask for a painkiller even though he’s out of them, but he’ll take one if I tell him to. What is it with men and their pride? “There’s Vicodin in my bag, top left side. Take two, leave the shirt as it is, and go to bed.”

Marc lifted a brow at the curtness. “What’s up?”

Angela sighed. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what has you on edge.”

Angela turned toward the window, glad for the bars on it as she spotted shadows padding outside. “Besides the wolves? I’m not sure.”

Marc saw the V on the bottle and dry swallowed two of the tiny blue pills. She sounds restless. “You wanna talk it out, play some cards? Both?”

“No.”

Marc sat in the chair and began working on their guns.

Angela started her own nightly rituals, but she was aware of the man pretending not to watch her. This would be their first time in a real bed together since they made a baby. The old Angela harassed her with memories. The mating had been sweet, soft, beautiful. She’d forgotten none of it.

Marc knew she was thinking about him, but he was out of time. If she said her man was near, then he was, and that meant this was their last night alone together. Marc burned to remind her of what it was like to be made love to instead of being taken.

The sparks thickened.

Angie unbraided her long hair and began to brush it.

“Can I do that for you?” Marc let a little of his longing show when she hesitated. “Please?”

Angela couldn’t deny him or herself. The need to get close to him tonight was undeniable. “Okay.”

When he slid behind her, big body warm and already hard, she snapped her eyes shut and held herself in place.

Her curls felt like silk on his calloused hands. Marc took his time, using his fingers to gather it, touching her neck softly.

Angela heard the brush hit the bed behind them; his big hands went to her shoulders, but instead of moving away, she allowed him to rub her. The heat from his touch was incredible. “That feels good.”

“Yes, it does.”

Angela didn’t stop him, even when his fingers brushed the curve of her breast and sent chills into her stomach. She forgot to listen to the voice of fear as his thumb brushed her again. The sensation rushing into her gut like a bullet. “Mmm…”

Marc’s eyes snapped shut at that sound, liquid heat flooding his gut. He moved his hands to her waist, her slender hips.

We have to stop now. Angela knew she’d probably hate herself later, but when he tugged gently, she leaned against his hard, bare chest, wishing she had the nerve to give him what he wanted.

Marc didn’t thrust against her ass like he wanted to. When she would have shifted to get closer, he retreated, not willing to destroy the peace.

Angela stifled a protest, cheeks flushed. She hadn’t meant to lead him on, but need was riding her now.

Marc recognized her reaction. The killing had done it for her. It was something no one liked to admit, but he’d had some of the best orgasms, alone, right after a battle where blood had been spilled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

Marc snorted. “I’m all good, Baby-cakes.”

Angela giggled.

A sharp draft ran through the room, making her shiver.

Marc frowned. “You should get settled, and cover up.”

Angela nodded, pushing off her shoes. She really was cold, sore, and tired. She climbed onto the bed, relieved to find it clean under the thin sheet.

Marc got another blanket from his kit and tossed it onto the pillow next to her. “Put that one around your shoulders.”

Angela drew on her courage. “Share it with me?”

Marc felt the need rise up, strong and hungry. He sat next to her, but shook his head at her offer. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Flames sparked.

Marc felt as if he was sweating, body making it hard for him to sit. He shifted restlessly, waiting for it to go away like it usually did. He had pleased himself from time to time while Angie was asleep, but right now, he felt like he hadn’t cum in years. He struggled to keep it out of his voice. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“As much as I can be.”

“You’ve learned a lot. I think you’ll do fine.”

She smiled at him, in a good mood despite the wrongness here. She tried not to let the thuds and creaks outside the ranch home bother her. She was with Marc. They could handle just about anything together. “I had a good teacher.”

Sparks flew, thicker.

Heat flooded her stomach. When his eyes darkened, she knew he sensed it.

Marc got off the bed and settled into the chair under the window, blowing out the candle closest to him. His body and arm were throbbing together–one a pain, one a sharp, sweet pleasure. What’s wrong with me?

Angela was asking herself the same thing. She was pushing him. Marc was a man, one with needs that hadn’t been met for a long time, and here she was letting him kiss her, touch her breast.

Her cheeks flamed at the thought.

She heard him shift in the chair, as if he caught the image. His shirt fell open at the movement, making her stare. He’s still beautiful.

“Angie.”

She heard the need. Instead of fear, the woman inside responded. “Yes.”

Marc’s eyes snapped open, but her pale face made him shake his head. “Go to sleep.”

Angie braced herself. She had one last lesson to learn. “Come to bed, Marc.”

Marc groaned, breaking out in a sweat. He shuddered. His blood pounded through tight veins, breathing rough.

Angela frowned. “Are you all right?”

Marc tried to nod, but the tempo of the lust beating inside him grew. He shifted again. I’ll have to do something about the iron bar in my jeans before climbing into that bed with her. The picture made the need tighten another notch.

He jumped as her cool hand settled onto his brow. He hadn’t heard her move.

“Damn, you’re hot. Let me see your eyes.”

Marc gritted his teeth as she checked him out. The feel of her hands on him, her loose hair sliding across his skin, was torture.

“I don’t understand. You don’t ha…” Angela broke off, frown growing. My bag. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

Marc did too. I need to get laid more often.

“You didn’t take Vicodin. It was Viagra.”

Marc was horrified. “What?”

Angela opened her worn medical bag. “It got mixed up during the wolf fight. You didn’t read the label.”

Marc scowled, hands itching to pull her down into his lap. “How long will I be like this? And why the hell do you have that?!”

Angela flushed. “It’s for side effects from diseases. Lenore wants to trade it for the cornbread.”

Marc groaned, on fire. He eyed the white pills she held out. He was used to much stronger pills. He hadn’t paid enough attention. He dry swallowed them before she could get him something to drink. “How long will I be like this?”

“At least a few hours, maybe six or eight.”

Marc’s head snapped back, eyes slamming shut. I won’t last that long. “Can’t you give me something to counteract it?”

When she hesitated to speak, he knew there was something, but she didn’t want to tell him what it was. “What?”

“If you...take yourself in…” Cheeks a furious red, Angela indicated the bed. “It will go away once you...”

“Next!”

She shrugged. “Let it wear off.”

Marc stifled a curse, shifting again. “There’s gotta be something else.”

“I’m sorry, there isn’t.”

The tension in the room continued to grow.

After five minutes of watching him squirm, and feeling her own hormones respond, Angela stood up. “I’m going out in the hall for a few minutes.” She waved off his protests. “I’ll take Dog out in the hall. You...handle things.”

Marc sucked in a tight breath. “Stay?”

Angela froze at the blatant need in his rough voice, gaping at him. “While you…?”

Marc heard himself beg. “Please?” He’d never been so hard in his life, not even during their time together all those years ago.

Angela was surprised to find herself considering it. “I couldn’t.”

“I’ll stay right here. I won’t leave this chair. And it will cover your story to our host.”

Angela knew she should leave, but the heat between them was stronger than the fear; she hesitated, torn. He’d made her feel so alive when they were young! Memories, old and powerful, swirled through the drafty room.

“I can’t.” He groaned as their lips met again. “I’m sorry.”

The beautiful girl shifted restlessly under him, body begging for his touch. “But I want you to!”

The boy held himself in place by a hair. They’d never gone this far before. The hormones were in control of her mind. She was too young, forbidden…

When she slid a hand between them, he sucked in a harsh breath. “I can’t do–”

“Sshhhh.” Her hand closed over him, stealing his voice. He bucked in her grip as she stroked. Struggling to think, he let her slide his tense hand under her skirt.

“Love me, Marc.” She moaned against his lips. “As much as you can.”

Tortured will crumbling, he did.

“That’s one of my favorite memories of us.”

Angie blushed at his words. The time after that, they’d gone as far as they could. There hadn’t been any holding back. “I can’t, Marc, I–”

“Just love me, Angie. As much as you can.”

She shuddered, need rising.

Dog groaned. I don’t need to see this. He found a dark corner and settled down to sleep.

She took a tense seat on the edge of the bed.

Angela watched his hands go to the buckle of his jeans.

Marc couldn’t stop himself; lust was raging. He held his breath as he popped the button on his jeans. He expected her to flee.

Angela’s cheeks were red, but there was no denying she wanted to be here. When he lifted his hips to slide his pants down, she tore her eyes away, breathing rapidly.

“Throw me a blanket.”

Angela did it without moving from her perch. She heard the blankets rustle, hands shifting for comfort. She couldn’t stop herself from stealing a peek. It was in time to see his hand go around hard flesh.

Marc saw her eyes go over his body, flashing fire and desire. He tightened his grip. “Mmm…”

His sound woke the woman inside. Angela found herself gawking as he pulled the blanket up and started to stroke… She wasn’t sure she could look away.

Marc watched her through narrowed lids, need tightening as she stared at the movements the blanket now hid.

He pulled down the top of it.

Angela’s breath went out in a rush; the sight of his thick flesh sent another blast of heat into her gut.

Stroking faster, Marc nodded toward the bed. “You too? You used to love this.”

I still do. How many hours had they spent that way before lust had driven them to actual touching?

Marc let the man inside push. “There’s another blanket. I’ll stay right here.”

She shifted restlessly.

He shut his eyes…most of the way. “I won’t look.”

Angela was shocked to find herself here, in this moment, but fear wasn’t the strongest emotion–desire was. Physical contact was something she’d been reminded of during this trip and it was one of the things she had hoped to conquer before now. In all the years since they’d been apart, she’d only pleased herself about a dozen times, and not at all in the last year.

“Baby?”

Before she could change her mind, Angela grabbed the second cover and tossed it over herself, but from there…

“Angie, you don’t have to do this.”

The sudden flare of guilt from him made her shake her head. He had nothing to feel guilty about and neither did she.

With that choice made, she put her hand under the cover and watched Marc like she used to when it was just them against the world.

Marc tried to slow himself down, not wanting to be done before she was, but he was on edge already. He saw her arm brush a rigid nipple as she got comfortable. He listened to her small hiss of surprise at the sensation, fire boiling.

She did it again, intentionally this time.

He stroked harder. That was the Angie he knew, the fearless, sexual nymph that he’d eased into womanhood wasn’t scared of pleasure. It was okay to think of that moment now, of how her tight body had wrapped around him in willing surrender.

He groaned at the feel of the memory mixing with reality. Marc jerked himself back from the edge by a hair.

Angela had stopped, watching him, also remembering. She shivered.

“I can’t wait much longer!”

The fear rose, making her tense.

Marc delivered a smoldering smile. “Scared?”

She nodded, voice rough. “A little.”

“You’re free, Angie. No one owns you anymore.”

The happiness that gave! Because it was true. She grinned, cheeks darkening further. “I’ll watch you for a minute.”

Marc wasn’t sure he had a minute after that.

Her hands stirred under the blanket. The urge to storm the bed and have her screaming in climax was a hard one to resist. “Move the blanket. Let me see, too.”

She did it slowly, revealing long, sexy legs and then white panties with a hand pushing the center aside. Her fingers rotated in small circles.

Marc’s heart thumped as the edge flew his way. “Damn, that’s hot. Lie back, pretend you’re alone.”

“Mmm…” The sound of Marc’s sexy voice made her convulse in pleasure; her legs opened further to reveal dark curls and slick skin that pulsed.

“With me!” Angela demanded hoarsely as the first wave of fierce light exploded through her body.

“Uuhhh!” Marc arched, grip freezing as he released wildly. “Yeah!”

Coming down first, Angela rolled over and pulled the blanket up. She’d thought to face fear or even guilt now, but there was only relief as her body continued to jerk and twitch in satisfaction. I really am free now.

Very unsure of her mood, Marc cleaned himself up and kept his mouth shut. He blew out the candle, then moved to his side of the bed. He was surprised when she held the blanket up and smiled at him.

“After that, I think it’s okay to ask if you’ll hold me while we sleep.”

Marc chuckled as he eased into the bed with her. That was what he wanted the most, what he longed for at night. “My honor, baby.”

Sated, the witch and old Angela both faded a bit more, pushed back by the new person who was emerging. This new woman belonged to herself. She wasn’t so afraid to take chances that she forgot to live.

Angela let out a sigh of peace, tight against Marc’s hard chest. She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat for the first time in fifteen years.

Marc didn’t sleep at all. He just held her and remembered.

Eavesdropping from the next room, Lenore was disappointed, but she planned to keep her word and let them go without trouble. She was sure she would forget about the handsome couple the minute they were out of sight. There was trouble on the horizon for all of them. Lenore could feel it coming. We won’t see them again. At least, not alive.