The Survivors: Book One (37 page)

He motioned at the small area, very aware of how uncomfortable she was. “Warmer in here, more room out there. You pick.”

“Outside,” she chose, hoping the cold might distract her from her fear of being touched, of being hurt. She was already shaking.

Stopping at the foot of the steps, she drew in a deep, calming breath as he took off his gun belts and set them on the porch. It was lined in scraggily patches of weeds trying to grow - with little success.

Marc watched the fear in her eyes grow as he moved toward her. “We can start out slow.”

"I can do this.”

Marc circled her. “I believe that too. Just remember to think.”

She nodded, and he rushed her.

Marc swung a leg behind her knee and gently took them to the ground. Not letting his weight fall on her, he tried not to think of her as a woman, but as a cadet to be trained, instructed.

Fear bursting through her mind like a rocket, and Angela struggled thoughtlessly.

Marc clenched his teeth in an effort to stay soft.
She felt good!
“Rubbin’ that body against a man won’t make him stop, Honey.”

Angela froze, cheeks bright red. “I don’t want...”

“You can’t talk your way out, either. You have to think and then act. Start with locking your ankles together and try to throw me off.”

She did as he said - heart pounding, mind screaming - and Marc met her eyes.

“You have to get in control of it. Being scared makes you human, but you have to think too. Your hands should be trying to find a weapon while your legs keep trying to throw him off. Your gun, his knife, a rock; anything in reach, and don’t waste your time yelling. It will only tire you out.”

Angela sucked in air, closing her eyes against the fear in her heart.

“He’ll be saying things, pawing at you, but surprise is your weapon. Distract him and then bite, punch, kick, whatever it takes, but don’t let him turn you over.”

She nodded, wanting him off of her, and Marc raised a brow. “Make me.”

She surprised him with an almost gentle butt to the head, and then they were struggling against each other, Marc using only pressure, no force. The fear in her eyes was intense, preventing his body from responding.

After a full minute, he let her roll him over and off. She was on her feet in an instant, hair wild, eyes flashing as he stood up.

“Lesson two. When a man corners a woman, he watches to see if she’s a runner or a fighter. Your eyes and body language tell him how to prepare for you, and again, surprise is
your
weapon. Keep your hands at your sides. Make him think you’ve frozen, and when he moves in, cup your hands into a fist and bring them up at the same time as your knee. Pound his nuts into his stomach, and run for a weapon or your car. If you miss, you’ll be on the ground again. Ready?”

She was glad he had given her the warning this time, but couldn’t help freezing when he rushed her. They were on the ground a second later.

“Lock those ankles, Angie. Use your knees! You can’t hurt me, but I could hurt you, if I were a bad man. You need to pretend I am.”

She answered him with a harder butt to the chin that sent tiny stars of vivid shades across his vision. He let her roll him over again.

Angela quickly gained her feet for a second time, and Marc took a quick look around as he got up. Clear. “Very good. Ready?”

He was moving in before she nodded. Angela remembered to drop her hands, but was afraid to really hit him, terrified deep in her heart that he would hit her back, as Kenny had so many times.

Marc tripped her easily, taking them down again. This time, her arms were pinned by his chest and the heavy weight of his body. “Don’t roll over and don’t unlock those ankles!”

Angela twisted her hips to make room and flung a handful of dust half-heartedly in his direction. Her knee brushed his groin, and again he let her roll him off.

She got up a bit slower this time, almost winded as she tried to remember his words over the fear screaming in her mind.

Marc realized he was going to have to use a different method to circumvent her fear of men. She had to see him as a stranger. He backed up a little, ignoring the heart that didn’t want her to be afraid of him for any reason or length of time. She froze when he got close, afraid of what would happen afterwards if she hurt him, which she couldn’t. He needed to reach that place inside that came out when survival was on the line, so she would remember how to handle herself when it counted.

“Not going to the ground means the difference between rape and escape. You have to stop me by any means necessary.”

Angela frowned, backing up as he edged closer. “I can’t just attack you.”

“I’m gonna make it so you can. Remember to think.” Marc sent his very male eyes over her body with clear want, letting the animal side out just a bit, and Angela felt terror go through her at his words. He wasn’t like them, right?

“Pretty white bitch,” he growled, mimicking the brothers' menacing tone almost perfectly. He hated her reaction, but didn’t stop, forcing her to deal with it. “How 'bout a kiss? Been alone a long time.”

She shook her head, still moving carefully away, and he was glad to see her eyes locked on his. At least she knew that much.

He rushed her suddenly and Angela brought her hands and knee up together. The force behind it was meant to hurt, but it didn’t. Neither said a word, Marc only letting his body strain against hers.

It took him a full minute to get her off her feet this time, Marc not really trying, of course, and once on the ground, he kept her there, showing her where to hit, scratch, kick, and punch.

A few minutes later, Angela knew she was done, and stilled, closing her eyes so he wouldn’t see how afraid she was that he wouldn’t stop.

“Done now… Let... me up.” To her great relief, his weight was gone an instant later.

There was no way she could have stopped him, and she knew he felt her shaking when she allowed him to pull her to her feet. She let go quickly and put some distance between them, stomach muscles now aching, pinching.

“You okay?”

Her words were breathy. “Good... exercise even... if I don’t... learn anything.”

“You will.”

Their eyes met, sparked, and hers darted away, making him frown. He had provoked real fear in order to teach, but it had taken so little!

“I’ll work on it, Brady. Again...tomorrow?”

He grinned at her, surprised she wanted to. “Absolutely. You did great. Next time, I’ll teach you ways to keep anyone from getting close enough to grab you.”

She nodded, sweating despite the chill in the lightly gusting wind. She didn’t notice the wolf curling up on the porch, but Marc did, and was glad. He was never completely sure the animal would return.

“Cool... guns now?”

His eyes were unreadable as he considered. He had shown her proper cleaning and hand positions, and they’d done some dry fire exercises, but she needed to practice, and that made a lot of noise, would draw attention they weren’t ready to handle. “Not until we leave here. For today, we’ll use something quieter.”

Pulse and respiration racing, she only nodded again as they headed in, unwilling to ask him for more. She needed to get used to caring for herself.
Wasn’t that why she’d called him, to teach her?

“You mean that?”

Angela was surprised he was picking things up from her, the look on his face said he hadn’t been expecting it either, and the moment hung between them like a flame in the darkness. Back in the old days, they had been open to each other in every way.

“Yes. Will you?”

He looked away from her, thinking her eyes were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pretty cars and expensive jewels had nothing on Angie’s baby-blues.

“Absolutely. In fact...” He dug in his kit. “I found this back in Mattoon.” He handed her a small, purple gift bag from his pack. It held an orange dart gun with half a dozen darts and a paper target. She saw the benefits even as she laughed at the toy.

“I’ll treasure it always,” Angela joked as he taped the target to the wall. She loaded the bright orange weapon and stepped back to practice, concentrating.

Marc stayed in a back corner, occasionally offering direction and trying not to sniff his hands. They reeked of her scent. He kept a groan to himself.
Damn, he had it bad.

When Angela looked around a bit later, the wolf was at the door, gray ears up, reddish-black head down, golden eyes watching contentedly. Marc had settled on the couch to clean his guns, and she felt peace and bitterness warring in her heart. This is how it should have been for them…and it had been stolen.

5

After a quiet meal of beans and Bambi, they settled in to wait out the storm. It wasn’t quite dark yet and they were surprised upon moving outside. Not to step out into cold, white darkness, but by the amount of snow that had already fallen. It was still coming down in thick sheets, at least six inches of the dirty grey flakes covering everything. The wind swirled the falling moisture into tiny tornadoes that raced across the cornfield to slam apart against the broken stalks and their snowy, tarp-covered vehicles.

The pair split up wordlessly, Marc waving the wolf after her as she stepped behind a large, ice-covered tree and out of his sight. The wind howled, growing stronger, and sheets of falling snow whipped violently, producing a whiteout effect that the flashlights around their necks barely penetrated. Making a fast round of the perimeter, the Marine uncovered alarms, then joined her on the porch, careful to keep his distance.

Angela didn’t meet his observant eyes, didn’t want him to see how scared she was.
“I have to warn Kenny this is coming,"
she thought, but only said, "I’ll be out here for a few minutes.”

Marc heard both statements. He wanted to stay and listen, but gently, closed the door instead, jealousy burning in his heart. He could feel it a moment later, powerful waves of warning that seemed to vibrate in his head as they rushed over miles and miles of broken American ground. He was hit with the urge to interrupt, to make his presence as her new protector known, but that would give away the element of surprise, and the Marine inside held him in check. Longing to at least hear what was being said, Marc began to clean his guns…again.

Angela slammed the door in her mind, trying to stop crying and shaking. Kenny was so mad!

His anger had slapped her, terrified her, and she wiped at her eyes as she turned toward their warm den. He wanted her to go back to Ohio, said he would come get her when he was ready, but she could hear him wishing she would die there or anywhere along the way. Under the layers of fear, she was furious and more determined than ever. She would never turn back now. Never!

Marc saw her face as she and Dog came in, and acid burned in his gut. Her man couldn’t reach her physically, but he could reach her emotionally, and he had.

“You okay?”

She shook her head, face tear-streaked, beautiful black hair flecked with snow. “No, but I can’t fix it from here. Montana by the end of March sound right?”

That was exactly what he had figured when she’d told him where her man was headed. “Yes, quicker if we do some night traveling too.”

Angela sat on the couch and pulled the quilt around her shoulders, unable to stop hearing the threats, the ugliness. Kenny had been angry from the start, but had spun out of control quickly, suddenly screaming, and she wondered why. Heart now skipping rapidly in fear, she paled even more. Had he seen something he shouldn’t have when she’d shown him the storm? Icy terror sank deep into her heart. Did Kenny know she wasn’t alone?

Angela flinched as Marc pushed the heater closer to her, kneeling down to turn it up higher. Not mentioning it, he wished there was something he could do to make her feel better. When he looked up, her eyes were locked on his, a desperate glare in her blue depths.

“Tell me you’ll back me up, no matter what. Tell me the code, the Corps, and everything else comes second to me.”

Marc smiled bitterly, but answered without hesitation. “Wasn’t it always that way? According to our family, I went against them and God to have you, and there was never a second that I wouldn’t have come if you’d called.” He dropped his eyes, sighed. “Still isn’t.”

Angela gave him a shaky smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Marc clamped down on another attempt to get her to change her mind. “Me too. Fifteen years was a long time.”

Angela shuddered, closing her eyes and mouth on the hell she’d been through. Only the future mattered, and that was Kenny. He was a violent man and seeing her and Marc together might be enough to send him over the edge. Especially if he snuck up on them and saw anything, like the sparks that flew when their eyes met. Blood would spill then, and her boy's parentage wouldn’t be an issue.

6

Two pairs of dark, frustrated eyes watched the couple move about inside the cabin, both unhappy with the lesson they had just witnessed through shared binoculars.

The snow had Dean and Dillan pinned down in a thermal tent. They were unable to get any closer because of the wolf and the tracks they were too injured to cover. Forced to wait until the storm broke and their wounds healed more, the brothers watched every move of the man and woman, plotting their revenge.

Shooting them was talked about, as was an open ambush during their next lesson, but neither plan was acted upon. In their conditions - both of their wounds angry red and leaking blood - they couldn’t be sure of victory. The evil twins wouldn’t underestimate their prey again though, and hunkered down to wait for their moment of triumph.

7

Angela’s dreams were worse than usual, and she jerked awake to see Marc already sitting up, watching her with concerned eyes.

“Is there a problem?”

She shook her head, keeping the thick quilt around her shoulders as she headed for the door. Not bothering with her shoes, when she slipped outside, Marc waved the wolf after her and got up.