The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (50 page)

Her super brain is kicking into high gear.
John had thought the same thing about her uncle but had never
voiced it to her. He tries to touch the side of her face to offer
her comfort, but she pulls back sharply.

"Are you sure?" he asks one more time,
giving her the chance to back out.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Grandpa would want it this
way, too. Just do it. I'm going back to the house. I'll take
Grandpa to the side and explain everything. Let the others go. I
think they're just stupid assholes."

"I agree," John states.

"Hell, they're not even a threat to
themselves. None of them has a killer instinct. They probably won't
make it far," Reagan says.

"Got it," John tells her with a nod. Her
eyes reflect his own coolness which is unsettling to see in her. He
much prefers the dancing green eyes brought on by her laughter, but
those moments with her are usually so few and far between.

Reagan walks to the house by herself and
doesn't turn around. John's pistol rings out loud and clear in one
clean shot again. The men send the three remaining visitors on
their way, even after Jasmine begs to stay between sobs and bouts
of hysteria. They don't waste any time getting the heck off of the
McClane farm, and Cory and Kelly escort them out, following in
Doc's pick-up truck. This has been a long and exhausting day, and
it won't end for many hours still. He and the other men have a lot
of burying to do.

There is no family dinner that night or the
next. Everyone eats when they can for a few days because the men
are gone in the woods burying the dead and cleaning up crime
scenes. Cory and Simon are also helping with this whether they had
wanted to or not. But both of them had not seemed to mind, neither
had they complained. In a twenty-four hour period, both of them
have turned from teen boys to men. The family is not permitted,
children included, to be outside while they are gone. Reagan had
explained what went down with the visitors' group to her
grandfather, and he was more than understanding as if he knew that
it would end this way. They agree not to tell Grams of her
brother's death, though Reagan is sure that sometime in the future
he will tell her. The visitor's campsite had been too hard to see
clearly from the house, so she's sure that Grams hadn't witnessed
the carnage. She's also sure that Grandpa had kept her from seeing,
too. That's between the two of them and not for her to get
involved.

Reagan is re-treating Hannah's injuries in
her room, after she retrieved the supplies that she needed from the
med shed. She's concerned about her sister and, more importantly,
her sister's mental state.

"Grandpa was right. I don't think you needed
stitches, Hannie," she tells her still-frightened sister as she
inspects the wound on her forehead which Grandpa had cleaned.

He had given Hannah a quick clean-up job
yesterday and that was about it. He couldn't run to the med shed
during the attacks for his doctor's satchel or any medical
supplies, but he had been able to clean, sterilize and lightly
bandage Hannah. He relayed to Reagan an accurate report of Hannah's
injuries and had told her that she hadn't been raped which was one
small thing to be thankful for.

"The cut on your hand will heal, but you'll
need to take it easy and not get it too dirty. And I don't think
you have a concussion, either, sweetie. Just try to keep the
bandaging on your hand nice and dry. No kitchen work for a few
days! But I don't think it will infect."

"That's good, I suppose," Hannah says in an
even softer voice than normal.

Her mouth is similarly swelled and bruised
like her cheek from being slapped, and she winces when she speaks.
She and Reagan have similar injuries, though to Reagan they are
only minor ones compared to what had happened to her at her
college.

"You'll be ok, Hannie. You're just going to
be sore, and you're scratched up pretty good," Reagan tells her,
trying to reassure her delicate sister.

She nods, but then the tears come and Reagan
takes her in her arms and holds her sister. Her anger blooms anew
at her sister's dead accoster.

"Oh, Hannah, don't cry," Reagan tries to
console her tender sister. "You're safe now. You're safe."

After quite some time, Hannah pulls back and
sniffs, "I'm such a baby. I wasn't even hurt like you were at your
school, and here I'm blubbering like a baby. I slept downstairs
with Kelly last night. Don't tell Grandpa. He'd probably be upset
about it since he doesn't know about us yet. I was just too scared
to be alone, Reagan."

"I won't say anything. I understand how
scared you are. It's a normal reaction, Hannah. You were almost
killed," Reagan explains and tries not to flinch at the idea of her
beloved sister being hurt like this. "You've been through something
very traumatic."

"If Kelly hadn't come out there, I would
have been, Reagan," Hannah says and sniffs again.

"Yeah, well hell, I guess I can't hate him
forever then," Reagan says on a chuff which makes Hannah smile.
"Come on. Let's go and see if they're all done. Did you eat
something yet today? It'll help calm your nerves."

"Yes, Grams made me," her sister says with
another smile and then a grimace.

"Good. It's the one time I would have to
agree with Grams force feeding someone," Reagan tells her as they
walk slowly toward the kitchen.

Kelly is sitting at the island with Grams,
and he has cleaned up and showered. He immediately comes to Hannah
and hugs her openly in front of everyone. He inspects her bandages
carefully and grimaces at the marks and bruises on her gentle face.
They go off to the music room together and nobody questions it.

"Where's everyone else?" Reagan asks Sue who
is holding Jacob. She takes her inherited child from her sister and
rests him on her hip.

"Derek's upstairs getting cleaned up. The
boys are downstairs doing the same, and John's finishing up in the
horse barn. That stupid gelding finally came home today along with
the horse Sam was riding, and John's getting the tack off of him to
turn him out," Sue explains.

"Ok, thanks. I'll go out and help him,"
Reagan says and shakes her head as Sue reaches for Jacob again.
"It's ok, Sue. I've got Jacob. He can go with me. Can't you,
buddy?"

For some reason, Reagan is reluctant to let
little Jacob go. There has just been so much death on the farm
lately that it's nice to hold this innocent baby boy with his
slobbery fists close to her, even though he smears her cheek with
his wet hand. She grabs his tiny fleece jacket off of the hook near
the back door and heads out to find John. The sun has nearly set,
and a light on in the barn floods into the yard with a yellowy
luminescence.

She needs to see John. He hadn't come to bed
last night at all, and her concern for her family also extends to
him. When she arrives at the horse barn, he's already removed the
gelding's tack and is turning him out to pasture with the other
horses. He pivots toward Reagan, after he fastens the lock on the
gate, and stops in his tracks momentarily when he views her.
Looking at John always stuns her to her core. She hasn't seen him
at all today because the men have been so busy. John looks to the
ground and then brushes past her and Jacob to go back into the
barn, the very same barn where he'd taken her virginity and showed
her that not all men, who have the ability, want to just hurt and
brutalize women. She follows him inside and leans against a horse
stall watching him. His clothes are filthy, understandably so. He's
filthy, also understandable after the last few days they've just
had.

He remarks quietly, "Think that gelding must
have run through about every briar patch in the woods on the way
home. This saddle's beat up and scratched. I'll work on it tomorrow
and see what I can do. Plus, my weapon's gone."

He says these things without looking at her.
Reagan walks over to him and puts her finger on his pistol.

"Your weapon's right here," she says
teasingly.

"That's my sidearm. My weapon's gone. It
must've been lost yesterday when I went down with the horse. And
that stupid horse is lucky because I'd be tempted to shoot him with
it," he says lightly.

At least she hopes he's kidding. The men do
all seem to revere their Army M16's.

"Oh, you mean your rifle," she says.

"No, I mean my weapon," he corrects her.

Reagan frowns at him. "Why do you not just
say rifle?"

"Because it's not a rifle. It's my weapon.
It's one of the first things that gets drilled into your head when
you join the Army. My weapon is for killing, and I've lost mine,"
he says as if he's lost an appendage.

Once he's taken the saddle and bridle to the
tack room, he finally stands still in front of her, but he seems
hesitant to meet her gaze. She doesn't point out the obvious that
he's quite skilled with his pistol or a knife, too. Reagan's not
sure John even needs a gun.

"You can just get another rifle out of the
arsenal. Grandpa has a couple AR's in there. A few…" she tries to
offer.

"It's cool," John interrupts. "I'll figure
something out."

His hands are covered in dirt, his gray
shirt is covered in grime and probably other things she doesn't
want to consider. It doesn't matter to Reagan. A truckload of dirt
couldn't make him any less handsome. He's remarkably calm and
relaxed for killing people yesterday and burying them all day and
last night. They'd also towed the non-functioning RV all the way
out to the main road and left it near an abandoned home. Derek had
told her that they'd searched it again and found a stash of pot and
two small baggies of crack cocaine.

"Everything ok?" Reagan asks him and steps
closer.

"Yeah, you?" he asks.

He finally looks directly at her with that
dark blue gaze. John steps closer, and Reagan feels the same
familiar butterflies in her stomach that she has always felt around
him. She'd misread those feelings for fear for so long and what
they really ended up being was simple, physical attraction.
Everything about John is sexy and sensual. Even a macabre few days
like they've just been through can't squelch the fact that she is
intensely and highly attracted to, drawn to John.

"Yes," she answers and steps toward him.
Jacob instantly starts squirming, wanting John to pick him up.
Reagan bounces him on her hip to quiet him and it works. She's
learned this trick by watching John with him. "Thanks to you."

"Almost got us both killed. I wouldn't say
thanks to me if I was you," he says testily.

It dawns on Reagan why he is so standoffish.
He's blaming himself for the attack on her, probably Hannah, hell,
the whole farm.

"If it wasn't for you, all of you guys, we'd
have been dead a long time ago, John," she says and steps closer to
link her free arm around his waist and rest her head against his
chest where she fits just perfectly under his chin. After a moment,
his arms encircle and squeeze her. They stand like this for some
time until Jacob's squeal breaks them apart. John still seems
hesitant to believe her, though.

"I'm sorry I had to kill those people in
front of you. That's why I didn't want you to…" he starts.

"I'm not," Reagan corrects him. "John, I
don't give two shits about those pricks. They were the sludge of
society. They were fully prepared to kill all of us to stay on
here. And the sickening thing is that they wouldn't have had a clue
how to manage this place anyways. And you know what the plan was
for us women. You did the right thing," she says with a shiver and
lays a hand against his chest as his arm still rests behind her
lower back.

"I killed your great-uncle, though," he says
and frowns.

"So? I told you to do it. I wasn't fooling
around when I said to kill him. You know that. You know me. My
moral compass doesn't allow for rapists, thieves and murderers to
live on our farm," Reagan discloses which is hard for her to do.
She's not crazy about the idea of John knowing her so well, but he
does and he especially knows more about her than any man has ever
known.

"Yeah, but I don't want you to look at me… I
don't know—differently because I did that stuff. I don't want you
to be disgusted by me," he explains.

He looks so worried over it that Reagan
actually drums up the courage to pull John's head down for a brief,
forgiving kiss.

"I don't look at you differently and I'm
sure as hell not disgusted by you. You do what has to be done,
whether that means farm work or killing someone to keep us safe. If
anything, I have more respect for you. You killed that piece of
shit Bobby for what he's done to Sam and for what he tried to do to
me, and not very many people could have done that. I mean he was
just a teenager for shit's sake. We live in a time now when you
can't hesitate, where you have to kill or be killed. You had the
balls to do what needed done and I respect that about you. You'll
always take care of Jacob… and me I guess," Reagan says and rolls
her eyes at him. He just smiles down at her. She doesn't actually
relish in having to say the last part out loud. At hearing his
name, Jacob reaches up and smacks at Reagan's cheek, but John
captures the baby's tiny hand.

"I will. I promise I'll always take care of
you. And I promise I'll always take care of Jake and your family,
our family," he swears.

His declaration makes Reagan pull back with
discomfort at the serious direction of the conversation.

To make it worse, he adds, "I love you,
Reagan."

She doesn't answer, but he doesn't look
disappointed in her lack of a response which is a good thing
because she's never going to say that. This love talk is annoying,
but if he feels like saying it, then that is fine with her. Out of
everything else that's happened the last couple of days, this is
almost the scariest. She nods awkwardly, and John captures her
mouth with his in a searing, meaningful kiss. However, their kiss
is brief because she has a cut on her lower lip from that dick,
Bobby. She flinches away.