From The Ashes (Life After War) (5 page)

“
Can you eat now?” Zack asked.

Angela closed her heavy lids. “Maybe.”

Surprising those listening, he kept the conversation going. “We have a wide variety for the patient to pick from–all canned, though.”

“
Applesauce,” John ordered, wishing he had her in camp, where all his equipment was.

“
Some… variety,” Angela muttered.

Her joke eased the tension a bit, and she huddled against Zack's warmth, feeling Brady’s stare, his thoughts.

“
One of them… will tell you,” she said, blurry vision resting on her gun in his backup holster. She couldn’t use it now, and that hurt as much as the gaping hole in her shoulder.

“
I’ll wait,” Marc stated, wondering exactly what was upsetting her. It wasn't the battle they'd left behind. He wasn't sensing any remorse.

“
Tell him what?”

Standing in the doorway, Adrian answered Zack’s question, gesturing bitterly toward the rest stop. “He wants to see what went down, what went
wrong
. With that aftermath, wouldn’t you?”

“
You wanna examine it? Ask one of us!” Zack snarled, angry for reasons he refused to name. He grabbed Marc’s wrist with his free hand. “Don’t make her relive it!”

Marc froze at the ugly flashes. He understood Zack could only do it because he was touching her, but it was a shock to realize that the trucker also
knew
that he could.

“
Go easy…” Angela moaned.

The angry man didn’t spare Marc at all as he went through every scream, every gush of blood he’d witnessed. It went on for a long time, and Marc’s expression darkened steadily. When Zack finally let go, the tension crackled.

Angela shuddered, and Zack realized she had relived it anyway–through him. He snapped his mouth shut.

“
I’m sorry… it was so awful for you,” Angela gasped out, shoulder and back coming alive with torment as the painkillers dissipated.

Zack snorted violently in protest, jarring her, and she groaned.

“
Damn.” Now guilty of what he’d punished Marc for, Zack let his head drop to his arm–gently. “Someone get the applesauce already.”

Over their heads, Adrian met John's eye. “Soon?”

The doctor nodded. “In a few hours. I'll call you.”

Adrian moved away, not looking forward to the wait. Angela's pain and suffering wasn't over.

3

Angela shivered despite the baking heat of the two men holding her. The fever had come shortly after she’d thrown up, and had resisted John’s attempts to get it under control. By midnight, it had been soaring and he'd chosen to operate.

“
Hold her still,” John ordered.

Grips tightened, and Angela groaned, biting down to stifle the scream.

Kyle barely noticed, meeting Marc’s terrified eyes. The look said it wouldn’t be much longer, and Brady tightened his mental grip.

“
Almost there…” John grunted, tensing his wrist against the pressure and the needle slid through. A firm tug, and the ravaged artery was closed. “Squeeze the bag!” he snapped at Neil.

John quickly removed the packing sponges he’d inserted while repairing the nick. He worked steadily, taking the ready sutures from Adrian’s hand.

John slid the last of the gauze out and gave a harsh grunt. “Bingo.”

“
Good, right?” Angela croaked out, needing the distraction.

Billy smiled down at her. “Yes, you are 5-by.”

“
Um… shit!”

Blood sprayed them and the wall.

“
Pack it off!”

“
What’s wrong?” Marc asked tersely.

“
Blew a stitch, that’s all,” John soothed, quickly replacing it.

As he added an extra layer of thread, there was silent fear under every labored breath Angela took.

“
Okay. Get ready.”

Neil grabbed another wad of gauze and squeezed the bag faster.

Zack, who John had known was the same blood type, was already hooked up to her.

The stitch held this time, and John sprinkled on another layer of the battlefield clotting agent Adrian had used.

“
Roll now, slowly, towards the wall… there. Hold it.”

John nodded at Marc, who delivered a shot of calmative, and a gentle swipe of the sweat from her brow.

“
Halfway there…” John sliced into the infected scabs on her back.

4

“
We're being watched.”

Adrian wiped Angie's blood from his hands, eyes sweeping the early morning fog. There were no obvious signs, but Kyle wasn't wrong. There was a clear sense of eyes on them.

“
Should we sneak out and take care of it?”

Adrian shook his head, thoughts still on the surgery. Would it be enough? “No. They'll come to us soon enough. Revenge is best served cold, but few have the patience to wait for it.”

Kyle scowled, understanding what he meant. “More Slavers?”

“
Probably. We look like an easy target, I'd guess, to any of them who survived. Keep the men calm. Our company likes to strike when the lights go out. There's time to be killed.”

Adrian moved toward the small room he'd chosen, as Kyle waved Neil over. He was aware of Cynthia trailing him, but didn't stop to talk. He was hoping for a few hours of quiet contemplation before all hell broke loose again.

Adrian left the door open, but didn't stop his fingers from removing his shirt. He hadn't had a clean one on in days and the reek coming from this garment said it would burn instead of being washed like he did with most of his clothing.

“
I want…
need
something else from you.”

Adrian looked up to see Cynthia standing stiffly, dark eyes wide with something he recognized instantly.

“
Can I come in for a minute?”

He nodded, considering the answer before she asked the question. He noted that she only stepped a foot inside the room–still respecting the old boundaries–but closed the door.

Cynthia didn't speak. Staring at his bare chest, she wasn't sure she could.

Adrian didn't need to hear words. Her cheeks were flushed, swollen body begging for a man's knowing touch... and after what she'd done, one of his Eagles wouldn't satisfy the itch.

Adrian gave a regretful sigh, body already responding. Another layer of guilt sank onto his shoulders–that he would enjoy this moment while Angela fought for her life nearby. “I’m not sure that I can.”

Sensing the opposite, Cynthia inched further into the dimly lit room. She knew how it worked after a bloody battle, how the Eagles always sought out their relief sources upon returning to camp. “You’ll try?”

Adrian watched her carefully search for exits, still shocked that she'd been the one to save Angela. “Of course, Ms. Quest. I
aim
to please.”

Instead of a flinch at the reminder of her role in Cesar's death, Cynthia smiled in a soft, understanding way that Adrian hadn’t thought her capable of.

“
Just do the best you can. I know I’m not her.” Telling him that she knew of his growing obsession with Angela–and she was a willing substitute.

Sure that’s exactly who she would become in his mind, Adrian motioned her toward his bedroll. “You'll be satisfied when I'm finished.”

“
Yes,” Cynthia moaned eagerly, lust riding her. “That's what I came for.”

Adrian waited for the reporter to kneel on his roll, dimming the other emotions, as need–raw and thick–coursed through his hard flesh. When she started removing her shirt, revealing sun-kissed skin flecked in blood, Adrian let the grateful man inside free. At this moment, he needed a release and an escape. Cynthia needed to be rewarded, brought into the light. It would be a few hours well spent.

Kyle and Neil exchanged knowing glances when Cynthia didn't come back out, but neither of them begrudged the personal moment. Cynthia had ended things publicly with Jeremy before he started his sniper shift, and this definitely hadn't been Adrian's idea–he had barely tolerated the reporter until now.

As they moved outside to fill the perimeter gaps, the two senior men also understood that there wasn’t anything that Adrian would deny her–even the truth of who he’d been if she asked for it. Adrian’s slug to the forehead had brought him down, but it had been the last shot fired. Without Cynthia’s brutal bullet to the back to throw off his aim, Cesar’s second shot would have hit Angela in the forehead. It had gone high by an inch and trimmed Adrian's arm. Cesar might have gotten lucky there and killed them both. Cynthia was about to be a camp favorite.

The lightening landscape around the country club was alive with swirling movement as a fog bank rolled in.

“
We're good?”

Kyle shrugged. “Plan's solid. We just keep waiting.”

Neil frowned. “I'm doing mine up high.”

Kyle watched Neil pull his jacket closer against the chill and pick a tree. The trooper scaled it like he'd been doing that sort of thing all his life. They'd changed a number of times in last six months. First, as a result of the war, and then again from joining Adrian's army, but also when Angela had come. Now, they would have to adapt once more.

5

“
She’ll live.”

Noise filled the chilly lounge at John’s call from the door, pulling Angela from her sedative-induced sleep. She opened her lids to find Marc watching her. Few things had ever looked so good. “Hi.”

Marc smiled. “They just learned the news.”

Angela heard the happy sounds from a distance, weak and heavily medicated. “Shoulda asked me.”

Hard to talk to the dead
. Marc swallowed the thought, closing dusty, faded blinds against the late afternoon glare. “We’ll remember that.”

Ready to face a fear, Angela slowly reached over and grasped her other hand.

Afraid of what she'd find
, Marc observed. He saw the relief fill her expression, and realized she hadn’t known if it was still there.

“
The infection started… and I still can’t feel it,” she explained hoarsely, trying unsuccessfully to prevent tears. “I didn’t know... what I’d do.”

Marc dropped his forehead to hers, unable to speak. How many times had he heard that during his years as a government killing-machine? It never got easier, but to hear it from the woman he loved! Marc plugged the wound as best he could, drawing back.

Angela rubbed at her cold fingers restlessly. There wasn’t even pressure when she squeezed. Without her gun, she wasn’t an Eagle. Maybe that’s why Adrian hadn’t spoken a single word to her during the surgery or after, why he hadn’t been in since they’d finished or taken a shift as heater. He didn’t want to tell her that she’d destroyed part of his dream by being too hurt to continue.

“
I won't quit. He'll have to take my jacket.”

Her strength drew reluctant respect from Marc, but her next words allowed him a glimpse of how far she’d planned out her future as an Eagle.

“
I made Level One with the left, two weeks ago. I might be okay with that–he might let me stay.”

Marc smoothed her hair down, glad the baking heat was gone. “I think so, too.”

He'd had hours to think about Adrian's words–
“It's limited by gender.”
–and finally caught the tone. Adrian might not be able to bring her back from the edge of death, but there was something he could do for her–Marc would bet on it.

Under the full edge of the painkillers, Angela carefully lifted her good hand and guided Marc's mouth down to hers.

Ever so gently, Marc kissed her… and his rage faded another notch.

The drugs pulled, and Angela dozed with the taste and smell of Brady to guide the way.

Marc stepped out into the chilly hall and turned to see Cynthia leaving the lounge.

Behind her, Adrian lifted a gentle hand that curled into her wild hair and tugged her back for a soft kiss and lingering hug. It was done openly, to reinforce her new acceptance.

Marc gave Adrian a nod of approval as the leader left Cynthia to head outside for guard duty. Adrian knew how to reward his people–there was no doubt there.

Marc studied Cynthia, wondering if she felt as satisfied as she looked. When she moved closer, he noticed the tiny smile on her swollen lips, the careful tread that spoke of a deep, close sexual experience. Yes, Adrian had served her well.
Good.

Marc sent a wave of pleasure and light with his grateful smile. “I'm in your debt.”

Cynthia flushed under his approval, feeling her body wake (she was attracted to Adrian, but Brady sent her heart into heavy thuds) and pushed it back. If she wanted the same from Marc–
and she did!
–he would reluctantly give it, but she would never endanger her new life that way. Getting between him and Angela, in any manner, was strictly forbidden.

“
She would have done it for me,” Cynthia stated finally, unable to help wondering if Brady's thick arms would have held her so closely, so perfectly.