The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (21 page)

"There's a shocker," John quips
sarcastically.

"Shut up, John!" Reagan barks at him and
then swings back to Kelly. "And you, you can't be with her. Hannah
is… she's…"

"Too good for me. I know."

His friend hangs his head dejectedly and
jams one hand on his hip. This just isn't true. John is about to
contradict him, but Reagan beats him to it.

"Exactly! So stay…" Reagan agrees
meanly.

"Reagan! That's enough. That's unfair to
Kelly," Derek scolds her like a big brother reprimanding his kid
sister.

"Shut up, Derek! This is between him and me.
He can go and find someone else. Not our Hannie," Reagan says
irrationally.

She's ready to take on all three of them if
she must and is jerking her small thumb toward the driveway as if
she's suggesting that Kelly go and find someone off of the farm.
Either that or she's pointing toward the visitors' camp which would
not be an enticing proposition. Nasty.

"Reagan, that's ridiculous. This isn't
actually between you and Kelly. It's between Kelly and Hannah.
Don't put Hannah on a pedestal like that. Kelly cares about her,
and he can take care of her better than anyone," Derek corrects her
again.

Reagan hisses out, "Stay out of it. This has
nothing to do with you Derek… or you."

She swivels and points directly at John.

"Hey, what did I do?
He's
the one
molesting your sister," John jokes, and Kelly shakes his head at
him and mouths the word "thanks."

"Jesus, John. That's really helping, ya'
dick!" Derek gripes. "Look, Reagan, I know this is hard for you,
but it's not like Kelly has forced himself on her. She obviously
likes him, too. We've all seen it. Everyone but you has seen it,
honey."

His brother is trying to appease Reagan, and
it almost seems as if it's going to work.

"You're an asshole, Kelly," she says more
quietly.

"I know," he accepts.

Unfortunately, the scuffle has drawn the
attention of the two women from the camp as they were fetching
water in buckets. The stripper, Kitten, and her cohort in crime,
the toothless hadji girl as the Rangers have been referring to her,
walk by with their water. Kitten is practically prancing.

"What do we have here, Jasmine?" toothless
nag asks rhetorically of Kitten-Jasmine.

"This looks like a whole lot of man meat to
me, Amber," Jasmine answers.

She purposely raises a suggestive eyebrow at
John. He and the other two men are working without their shirts on
like they do most days on the farm because they just get too hot.
And it also ruins what few shirts they each have when they get
grease on them or holes and rips in them. John's not so sure he
should've taken his off. He's starting to feel like what Kitten
must've felt like on stage as the two women gawk at them. Both
women have paused and are looking at the three of them like they
could possibly sexually assault them. John is wishing he had a rape
whistle.

"Oh yeah. Haven't seen nothing like you
three in quite some time," toothless says as she bobs her head side
to side.

"Fuck off, trailer trash!" Reagan yells at
them violently.

The women both jump in surprise like they
hadn't even considered Reagan standing there. In their defense, she
is small. Both of these women from the visitors' group are
considerably taller than the boss. However, if she feels confident
enough to take on Kelly, then John's quite sure she could handle
herself against Amber and Jasmine the Kitten.

"Geez, that wasn't necessary. We were just
making a friendly observation, little one," Kitten says.

She is apparently unfazed by the insult. The
other one, though, is glaring at Reagan as if she'd like to murder
her. Jasmine licks her lips sexually and walks closer to John where
she touches his bare chest with her middle finger running it down
to the waistband of his faded jeans. He'd like to tell her that her
fingernails are too long, and dirty to boot.

Reagan marches over and slaps Jasmine's hand
down hard. The crack echoes in the barnyard.

"Go!" she barks at the woman who towers over
her.

Reagan points her finger toward their
campsite. Her and her bossy little fingers!

"Suit yourself, little one," she purrs.

Jasmine leans close and says so that only
Reagan and John can hear, "You're always welcome to join us,
sweetie."

"Get the fuck out of here before I use this
on you," Reagan says.

Reagan fingers the pistol strapped to her
sexy thigh. The women retreat and when they are out of earshot,
only then does the group talk again. John is quite sure that Reagan
McClane had not caught on to Jasmine's threesome insinuation. She
doesn't even get John's more blatant and not at all subtle sexual
innuendoes most of the time.

"Gross, I feel violated," John jokes to
lighten the tension. Derek laughs and even Kelly chuckles once and
shakes his head.

"Yeah, right," Reagan doubts. "I'm out of
here. I need… I need… I'm going to run or something."

"I know what you need," John mumbles, and
Derek and Kelly both laugh loudly this time. She just looks at him
queerly, though. Of course.

"You got that right, little brother," Derek
laughs again.

Reagan glowers at them like they are
complete imbeciles and takes off at a sprint as she obviously
doesn't get John's sexual insinuation. Sometimes for being so
brilliant she is kind of dull-witted.

John catches up to her just past the barns
on her running trail and follows along for a while, enjoying the
view until the path widens enough for the both of them.

"How's your patient?" John asks her, easily
keeping stride to her shorter one.

"Same. Sam's keeping an eye on her for me.
Probably gonna die like all my patients," Reagan bites out
angrily.

There is ice in her voice and she pants
lightly from the run.

"Reagan, you're a fantastic doctor. None of
this is your fault. You and your grandfather are doing everything
you can for them," John defends her against her own criticism.

"Go back. I just want to be alone."

John snatches her by the arm, and they come
to a halt.

"Let me go…"

"I'm kind of tired today, babe. Can we just
walk for a while? Plus, you look hot," John lies smoothly.

"Then go back. I didn't tell you to come.
And, of course, I'm hot. I'm wearing jeans for Christ's sake!"
Reagan says crudely.

She continues to walk with him, albeit a
fast walk. He's glad she's switched to jeans instead of wearing her
tiny shorts around the visitors. She's obviously holding a hard
grudge against him for telling her to dress differently for the
time being, but John can take it. It's worth it to know that the
men in the visitors' group won't be eyeing her up which would force
his hand in shooting them.

"Take it easy on me. I'm getting old," he
jokes with her, and she hits him with a snarky look as they climb a
short hill together. She slips once and automatically grabs for
John's arm which is already there. It makes him feel like a
demi-god.

"What the hell was he thinking?"

"Darwin? I've never gotten that one, either.
Too many flaws in the theory. I mean look at these trees and that
cardinal over there…" he is cut off from continuing his jesting as
Reagan slugs his shoulder.

"Don't be a jerk. I'm not debating
evolution, and you know it. I mean Kelly. What was he thinking? He
can't be with Hannie," Reagan says.

They hike up to the top meadow where they
stop a moment while she rubs at her wrist.

"Let me look at that, boss," John says and
takes her fragile hand in his own.

"I'm the doctor, moron," Reagan insults him
yet again.

"Yeah, but I've seen enough fights to know
what I'm looking at and you haven't. You did give Kelly a pretty
good slug, though, for a pipsqueak," John tells her and ignores her
scowl. He bends her wrist backward and then down which makes her
wince and makes John feel bad for doing so.

"Ow, damn it!" she exclaims.

"Yeah, 'ow.' You're too small to take on
giants."

"So?" she returns immaturely.

Her pout is sexy even though John knows that
she doesn't mean it to be.

"Now we haven't gone over throwing a punch
so you shouldn't have tried that. I'm not saying that Kelly didn't
deserve it. I mean, Hannah is your sister and all. But you just
weren't ready to fight him. I'd say you've got a good sprain, but
nothing seems broken. I'll help you wrap it when we get back."

Reagan looks up at him and John is
momentarily distracted by how pretty she looks in the late summer
sun in a meadow full of flowers and tall grasses that match her
eyes. Her golden blonde hair is half down and half up from
wrestling with Kelly, her cheeks are flushed from the run, and he's
left to wonder if this is what she'd look like after sex. Before he
tosses her down in the field and has his way with her, which he's
sure she'd enjoy, John starts talking again.

"What did you do—pole vault onto his back?
That was quite the leap!" he praises, which earns him a grin.

"He pissed me off. You don't know the half
of it. He's very wrong in this, John."

She is almost beseeching him to hear her
side.

"I'm with you, boss. You want me to beat him
up, I will. Alright? Whatever you say I'm gonna do it, no
questions," he tells her, and he's being completely honest,
although he'd get his butt kicked.

"Really?" Reagan asks with surprise and
wrinkles her nose. "He's your best friend."

"You're… my girl. That's just the way it
is," John explains and hopes she doesn't freak. She does frown up
at him, but she doesn't say he's insane for calling her it.

"I'm not asking you to do anything like that
for me," Reagan tells him.

John lays his palm against her cheek
briefly, and she swallows hard.

"I'd do anything you asked," he informs her.
How can she have any doubt? He'd killed nearly a dozen men in the
city to keep her safe. Of course she doesn't know the exact body
count of the ones in the park, but she knows he'd killed people to
protect her and he'd kill a dozen more if need be.

"Don't," she whispers, stops speaking and
looks at her feet.

Surprisingly, she hasn't pulled her hand
back yet, and John is rubbing his thumb over her delicate wrist
bones. Her breathing is becoming shallower, and he very much wants
to think it's because of his light touch that seems to be
distracting her.

She continues quietly, "Don't fight with
Kelly over me. He's your best friend. You two are like
brothers."

"Reagan, Kelly loves her. He loves her a
lot, like the for-life kind. Like your grandparents love each
other. He's loyal as all get out, and he will take care of her,"
John tells her gently to help assuage her anger at the
situation.

She frowns and puckers, and John gives her a
lopsided grin. The urge to kiss her is almost too much.

"Look, whatever's happening between them I
think we should let them be. They are both adults and just to give
you some input on Kelly, he wasn't a womanizer. He never was even
when we went on leave together and partied and stuff," John
explains. He's waiting for her to call him a man whore again. If
she does, he might just have to prove it right here. She does slip
her hand free of his.

"Fine, I'll leave it be for now. But if I
think he's just using her, then I'll tell Grandpa and he'll throw
him out or shoot him. Or I'll shoot him," she finally settles down
some and John laughs.

"Reagan, he's not using her. Believe me.
He's not that kind of guy, not at all," John tells her as the frown
lines and the crease between her brows finally let up. She is quiet
for a few moments.

"You'd really beat up Kelly for me?" she
asks mischievously.

"Come on," he tells her, and they walk some
more. "I'd probably get my butt kicked, you know."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.
Unless, of course, you had your rifle. I've read about super
high-power rifles for hunting big game. You might want to invest in
one of those first," she teases.

John pokes her in the rib, earning him a
small smile.

"We'd better get back to your patient.
Wanna' finish or just go back the way we came?" John asks, and
Reagan gives him a knowing grin before she sprints the long way
home. There are so many other more preferable, delightful ways to
burn calories that he'd like to show her.

Yesterday after dinner before he'd gone to
catch some sleep and before his shift started, John went out behind
the barns and found that black car. Though Sue had told him what it
looked like he hadn't been prepared for what he'd found. It had
been dark, but he'd taken a flashlight and what he saw was like
nothing he'd seen in all his years of warring. Maybe it was because
he wasn't used to looking at the aftermath of carnage since his
team made their quick strikes and then split the scene. Or maybe it
was because he actually cared about this victim. The weeds had
grown up thick around the VW, and he'd had to really yank the door
to get it to open past the foliage. The dome light had surprisingly
come on when he'd pried the door open, and between that and the
flashlight, it was more than he ever wanted to see. There was dried
blood everywhere, literally everywhere. The driver's seat was
completely coated with dark blotches. The console, even the
passenger seat and the floor of the passenger's side had blood on
them. The glove box, the steering wheel, the dash, all of the
instrument panels were splashed or splattered with it. He'd found
blood in the trunk and on the tailgate, as well. He'd also found
the note on the floor of the driver's side. Her grandfather must've
put it in there when he moved her escape vehicle. It was also
blood-splattered but was written in the same, no-nonsense manner in
which Reagan spoke about any patient. Lateral this, quadrant that,
a diagram of her abdomen with notes scribbled off to the side.