The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (31 page)

"Pathetic," Sue says with disgust. "We're
sanitized, Reagan, so we're going back out."

"That's a good idea, Sue. I think we're
catching this early enough with Huntley. Make sure the kids
sanitize in the house since they've been playing with him. I'm
going to start him immediately on an IV and give him antibiotics
and a steroid shot. His blood pressure's good, lung function's a
little dirty, but this hasn't progressed on him to where I think I
can't manage it with medications," she says.

"Thank God," Derek tells her. "Hey,
everything ok with that punk earlier?"

There's no need for using a name on this
topic.

"Yeah, he was just being a little dick," she
tells him to which Derek snorts once and smiles. Sam smiles sadly,
but then looks at the ground.

"Let me know if you need help with him," he
tells her and Reagan gives him a nod this time.

Her brother-in-law leaves, but Reagan grabs
Sue by the arm.

"You'd better go calm him down. I'm afraid
he might do something," Reagan says quietly.

"Should I really though?" Sue asks with
deadly intent before walking away.

Reagan couldn't agree more, but these
decisions have to be made as a family. She knows her sister will
talk Derek down from his ledge of hostility.

She gets right to starting an IV on Huntley
which he protests, but Sam helps her with him. The steroid shot in
the back of his hip area is next, and the little guy just about
passes out from fear and anxiety.

"You're doing so great, Huntley. You're so
brave. Why don't you tell me some more about your mother?" Sam coos
to the boy.

Her feelings for this young boy are so
transparent. She has clearly adopted him as her little brother. As
Reagan goes about administering meds and taking vitals on Huntley
and then documenting everything on a new patient sheet, Sam talks
to the boy non-stop to further take his mind off of what's going on
around him.

"I'm going to give him an Albuterol
breathing treatment, Sam. You can help him with it like you did
with Jennifer when she was awake, remember?" Reagan asks the girl
as she hooks up the machine and dispenses the tiny vial of liquid
medicine into the correct chamber.

"Yes, ma'am, I remember. I'll hold the tube
for him," the girl agrees.

Her brilliant blue eyes are staring up into
Reagan's with such blind faith that Reagan has to turn away from
this kid for the second time today. There is a very real
possibility that Huntley will also die, even though his sickness
has not progressed the way the other two had. For a young teenager,
Sam is more intuitive than she should be, and Reagan doesn't want
the girl to read the doubt on her face.

"Good," Reagan says curtly and flips on the
power switch to the machine. Reagan walks away from her to start
documenting her findings on the boy's chart. When she's finished,
she next moves to Jennifer's bed where the woman lies in the same
non-alert, comatose state of which Garrett had finally
succumbed.

Minutes turn to hours in the med shed as the
sun sets and dinner is called for the McClane family, though Reagan
does not want to leave. The curtain has been permanently drawn
between the two patients so that Huntley should not see when
Jennifer passes. The boy is sleeping deeply as Reagan listens once
again to his lung function and is pleased that the bubbling sounds
have settled substantially since earlier in the day. The breathing
treatment coupled with the medicines, seems to be working. They are
also making him sleep soundly which isn't a bad thing.

Reagan pushes a heavy table, with help from
Sam, over beside his bed to prevent him from falling off. As deeply
as he is sleeping it is doubtful that he will even stir. When they
leave the shed, Reagan locks the door and turns off all but one low
light. The lock hanging from the heavy chain should discourage any
would-be drug thieves from entering, and if it doesn't, she can
always send the men with their M16's over to further discourage
such behavior.

Once they are inside the house and Grams has
yelled at her once again to remove her shoes, Reagan rushes
straight to the laundry room sink where she can scrub up. Although
anyone who's been in the med shed has to sanitize before they
leave, she and Grandpa have also told everyone to wash up in the
house, as well. With a sickness of this magnitude it is better to
err on the side of caution.

Reagan doesn't bother to turn on the lights
in the laundry room, which will soon become the coats and muddy
boots entrance when winter sets in. It will help to keep the
kitchen hardwood floors clean during the muddier, wetter seasons to
come. The small amount of light coming from the hallway and the
window above the sink is good enough for her to see to wash her
hands and forearms.

"Hey," a voice—that voice—from the door
makes her jump.

The one person she'd been doing so well at
avoiding is now standing in all his dirty, muscle-bound glory in
the doorway. She steals a peek at him and has to turn away quickly.
He's wearing a filthy, white tank and dirty, baggy, faded
blue-jeans. Forget the guy in the three piece suit, Reagan couldn't
have found another man in the world as sexy as she thinks John is
right here, right now in his grungy work clothes standing with one
hand suspended from the doorframe which he can easily reach. She
suppresses a groan and feels her cheeks ignite.

"I heard Huntley's sick now, too."

Oh good, he is going to keep this civil and
light and not bring up that ridiculously mind-blowing kiss in the
barn.

He has probably forgotten all about their
kiss already. He is likely experienced with everything of a sexual
nature, and she has no experience whatsoever. They couldn't
possibly be more ill-suited. She'd been completely overwhelmed by
their kiss and his surprising plan to give her one. His mouth had
moved on hers with an all-encompassing fire, and she'd kissed him
right back, sort of. It isn't like she's had a whole lot to compare
it with, but it had been earth moving. Apparently for John, the
kiss had been completely forgettable.

"Um, yeah. I think he'll be ok, but hell,
what do I know?" she remarks and dries her hands and arms on the
towel hanging beside the stainless steel wash sink.

"Are you serious?" he asks with surprise.
"You're the smartest person I know. You're the smartest person I've
ever even heard of, Reagan. You know more than I do about that
stuff, more than any of us. Your grandpa is up, and he said that it
was lucky to catch the sickness early like this. He said you'd
probably be able to cure Huntley."

He praises so openly of her, which makes her
furious and proud and uneasy all at the same time.

"Cure him? I'm not a magician," she says
sarcastically as she hangs the towel and then neatly arranges it to
avoid turning to face him. God, this shit is embarrassing. No
wonder she'd avoided dealing with relationships of this type her
entire life. Books and specimens on a slide are so much easier.
"But I think he'll recover."

Reagan proceeds to give John the full
medical run-down of Huntley's symptoms, the meds she's administered
and his stats. It is all another useful diversionary tactic on her
cowardly part, but she finds it preferable to looking at him as she
puts her hand on the ledge of the sink and faces the wall instead.
Why does her voice keep going up in octave and sound so breathless?
And why the hell is she talking so fast? She sounds like some sort
of freak medical recording.

"If I didn't know any better…" John says
from right behind her.

This makes Reagan jump again. He places his
hands on either side of hers on the sink and leans into the entire
length of her backside.

"I'd think you were avoiding me, boss."

His cheek brushes sidelong against hers, and
John nuzzles the spot below her ear. He doesn't kiss her there, but
just pushes his nose and mouth against her which is so much worse
than just a kiss. Then he inhales deeply. Reagan blinks rapidly as
her breathing keeps pace with her blinks.

"I… I'm not avoiding you," she lies so
badly. It doesn't sound the least bit convincing. Damn! His hands
slide inward and cover hers. She looks at those hands with the
long, capable fingers that are so tan from summer and completely
engulfing hers. The contact is like a thousand needles hitting her
skin. His hands are warm and sure. Reagan's are icy cold in
comparison.

"Kind of feels like it," he murmurs against
her neck.

He finally kisses her neck, making Reagan's
knees about buckle. John slides a supportive arm about her waist
and pulls her more tightly into the front of him where she is
pretty sure she feels something very prominent pressing against her
through both of their jeans.

"I miss you."

"Don't," Reagan whispers raggedly.

"Don't what? Don't do this?" John asks.

He kisses below her ear. It causes a shiver
to run the entire length of her spine. Jesus, where did he learn to
talk like this? Is he trying to melt her with his words and touches
or does it just come naturally for someone like him? His breathing
is ragged in her ear, leaving Reagan to wonder if he is also
disturbed by her, though she is doing nothing but standing there,
barely. Had he been serious all of those times when he'd come on to
her and she'd thought he was being a wise-ass? How can she possibly
appeal to someone like him?

His fist clenches and unclenches so hard and
repeats the process in the soft, worn cotton of her shirt lying
against her stomach. This will surely leave it a wrinkled mess.
However, he does eventually release it again, but he doesn't move
away. Then, as he kisses her neck and along her jaw line, John
slides his hand north and cups her breast in his large palm. Every
area of her Reagan's body is on fire, some areas more than others.
His touch is firm but gentle, and he brushes his thumb over her
nipple. An unfamiliar sound escapes her throat. Anyone could walk
in on them. What the hell are they thinking? She feels lightheaded
and dizzy. The thought hits her that perhaps she is sick, too. She
feels feverish, weak. Who the hell cares? Her free hand reaches
high up behind her and grasps the back of his neck, tangling in his
hair there so that she can pull him more tightly to her. Where the
hell has her self-control gone?

"Where are John and Reagan?" Grams calls
from the hall somewhere near the dining area.

They break apart. Reagan finally turns to
face him, and she can see for certain that John is as unequivocally
disturbed by their encounter as she is. His stare is all-consuming
in such a way that Reagan feels she cannot look away.

"Don't work in the med shed tonight," he
demands and pleads at the same time.

She swallows hard.

"Reagan!" Sue yells from the outer rooms.
"Hurry up!"

"We're coming," John calls back loudly.

Reagan has lost her ability to speak, think,
reason clearly. This never happens. She's normally a lot more in
control of herself than this.

"Don't work out there again tonight," he
says more forcefully this time as the corners of his eyes
pinch.

Reagan has to clear her throat before she
can speak. "Wh… why?"

"You know why," he says hoarsely and
advances on her again.

This time he grasps either side of her face,
and his mouth swoops down onto hers with a thunderous intensity
that staggers her back against the sink behind her. If John is
worried about being seen kissing her, he has a funny way of showing
it. His tongue plunders into her mouth as Reagan's body sags
against him weakly. A cry of denial elicits unbidden from her mouth
as he ends the kiss, and she has to bite her lower lip. After a
moment too brief, he raises his head and those dark navy eyes bore
into hers.

He whispers huskily, "I want to make love to
you tonight."

Holy shit! Did he seriously just say that?
What is wrong with him? People don't just go around talking like
that in broad daylight… or dusk or in a house full of people.
Reagan's answer is a sharp intake of breath.

"And you want me to make love to you. I can
tell. Say you won't work out there tonight. I need you," John
says.

He murmurs softly against her mouth as he
kisses her again, but very briefly this time.

"I… I…," is all she can get out before Ari
runs into the room interrupting them.

"Come on, Uncle John," she demands with a
squeal. "Come on!"

She extends her baby hand toward John's who
takes it without question and allows her to tug him toward the
door. Though Ari is doing her best to gain John's attention, his
gaze has not left Reagan's, and she has to finally tear her gaze
away.

Once everyone is seated, the
family—including the two new kids that they've managed to squeeze
into areas at the table—joins hands for a prayer. This is the part
that Reagan usually opts out of, but John takes her hand firmly in
his under the table where he strokes his thumb roughly over the
top. His touch is aggressive, unforgiving and impatient. This is a
whole new side of John that almost frightens her with his open
assertiveness. She has no idea what is covered in the prayer
because she is remembering his hand on her breast. He is holding
Jacob on his lap because they still have not found the time to go
out and salvage a high-chair from one of the outlying
neighborhoods.

After the prayer, Grams opens the family
conversation with the option for Simon, Huntley and Sam to stay on
with the family and by Simon's shocked reaction he hadn't known
this was coming. Huntley is almost too young to make that decision,
but Reagan is fairly confident that he'll want to stay, as well,
once he is better enough to consult. Getting his shit-head father
to agree to it might be another case altogether. Sam, having been
prepped and happy to accept the offer from Reagan, is less
surprised but also clearly thrilled to be hearing it brought up in
front of the whole family. Both kids talk animatedly about how
gracious and blah, blah, blah.